


Fragile Promises

by Zeragii



Series: What Doesn't Kill You [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Babysitter Sans, Defeating a demon, Desperation, Determination (Undertale), Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil Chara (Undertale), Female Frisk (Undertale), Friendship, Frisk (Undertale) Has Issues, Frisk (Undertale) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Frisk is Losing Hope, Goat Mom Is Best Mom (Undertale), Gravity Magic, Guilt, Hope, Kindness, Manipulation, Past Genocide Runs, Possession, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Protective Toriel, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Sans has 1 HP, Sans is Actually Pretty Good with Kids, Sans is a good friend, Some Slice of Life Activities, Worldbuilding, meetings, soul torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 15:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 58,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeragii/pseuds/Zeragii
Summary: They say there are three things you should never break: Promises, Trust, and Someone's Heart.Frisk had broken all three.Over and over again.





	1. For Every Affliction

**Author's Note:**

> Ooooookay. So, sorry to have posted this again someplace, but I feel this prologue to War Crimes was really too long to not be it's own story. Soooooo, here it is. War Crimes may very well become a three part series, so this constitutes as the first book. Thanks! See ya! - Zeragii

The canopy of twinkling stars above was a carousel of blending colors, full of cold navy blues, arid pinks, and soft smearing purples. The silhouettes of craggy pines cut upward into the night canvas, dark and black against the aurora of the heavens. An endless cluster of pin-point lights outlined the reaching arm of the Milky Way galaxy, a steady reminder that while the world above ground seemed vast, almost infinite, it was really quite a small place compared to the rest of the universe.

A mere floating spec in the ocean of space.

It was late summer on the Surface, the tail end of a long, hot August that had turned wet and muggy for a while toward its finish. Rainy season had now come and gone, and the humidity of true summer had long since been chased away by a telling chill in the air. Fall was coming, evidenced by how some of the trees' leaves, those pretty star-shaped cutouts, had already started turning from vibrant green to varying shades of magenta, tangerine, and gold. The grasses had browned and tanned; what once had been lush and moist was now course and stickily, the charade of healthy foliage turned into the earthy palette of autumn. Even heralding summer's death, it was beautiful.

Wondrous.

Spectacular.

It may have been nothing like the distinct and near mystical worlds that had existed in the Underground - Snowdin with its arctic temperatures, Hotland with its desert-like heat, and Waterfall with its cyan-colored marshes - but the Surface was absolutely breathtaking in its own way. The moon's albedo gleamed down on the earth like a silver spotlight, an ordinary miracle, and yet one that still carried with it a sense of familiar awe. The same could be said for the changing of the seasons themselves; so common a thing, and yet every heart on earth should have found comfort in the refreshing shifts that measured eternity into comprehensible chunks.

Frisk barely noticed.

Even as the glow of stars overhead shimmered, her own soul was dimmed and crushed beneath a non-corporeal weight.

The child sat alone, small and curled into herself on the peak of a large, rough boulder. The forest around her felt cold and dull, colorless in the semi-darkness of night. The stone was harsh beneath her rear, softened only by the meager patches of dehydrated moss that dotted its surface and the fabric of her own pants. The boulder was a pitted landmark, worn by weather and countless ages, the kind of majestic mass thought to be carried by glaciers, only to be dropped once the great ice giants had melted away*. It sat in a small clearing, surrounded by tall pine trees that towered over it, but left a modest patch of starry sky still visible above. Frisk had come to consider this spot as a place of contemplation, of peaceful thought and meditation, but it held none of those warmer, pleasanter aspects tonight.

Despite the coolness of the dusk air, Frisk felt red faced and overheated. Sweat tickled against her skin as it formed a thin sheen against her forehead and cheeks. Her hair felt heavy on her own head, damp from the bath she had taken shortly before in a nearby stream, her locks still wet and dripping. She was shaking slightly, though not from the cold, and her breaths came out rough and staggered. Agitation roiled in her soul, a thick, helpless sort of feeling that stiffened her movements and made her throat feel tight. The breeze that ran through the clearing felt nice in comparison, brushing up against her glistening skin, passing through her blue and pink sweater like it was nothing.

Her expression was pinched; stubborn and determined.

"I won't," Frisk muttered thickly into the surrounding clearing. Her voice was rock solid; serious and stern. She picked at the dry, crumbly moss on the stone surface around her, the fibers jamming up under her fingernails as she fidgeted unconsciously. "I'm done with this game. I want it to stop. This isn't funny anymore. It never was."

Silence greeted her, nothing but the sound of the wind rustling in the trees' crisping edges. To any onlooker or passerby, the thin nine-year-old girl might have seemed to be talking to herself, her voice reedy and distressed, posture tight and shuddering. Concern would have been warranted, seeing as there was no other soul in sight to which she could possibly be speaking to. Her obvious anger and frustration was thrown to the night air, words fading and sounding small in the pure vastness of the outside world. It swallowed up her passionate statement, eating it away to tense quiet.

However, despite all appearances, the young one was far from alone.

Frisk absently dislodged another clump of moss with her fingertips, frown increasing. "Chara, did you hear me?" she asked sharply, narrowing her eyes to further peer into the darkness. It took a moment, a long, arduous moment, but just when she was about to sigh and give it up for loss, Frisk finally spotted what she was looking for.

A shadow, visible and yet only just barely, faded into existence in front of the child. It hovered there, a wraith-like figure, strange and mysterious; chilling. It was small, no bigger than Frisk herself in size and shape, but the aura of darkness that surrounded it like a cloak made it seem bigger, more imposing. It floated, a specter amidst the forest backdrop, the trees visible through its body like white china was visible through a bowl of yellow jello. It existed as an extension of Frisk's own shadow, a nearly featureless entity with only a set of glowing red eyes based in its head and a heart shaped pulse of crimson in its chest. Without those distinct qualities it would have been almost nothing more than a darkened blotch on the landscape. Most would pass it by, none the wiser to its existence other than a rising of the hairs on the backs of their necks and a swipe of cold air against their brow. Frisk, as she had long since discovered, was the only one who could see it.

**I heard you,**  the specter hummed, sounding bored. It's voice echoed in Frisk's mind, words and yet not. It bobbed in place, like a piece of wood caught adrift in a pool.  **But it makes very little difference, you know that, right? You're just wasting your breath.**

"I don't  _want_  to reset," Frisk repeated, regardless. She gritted her teeth, so hard they almost seemed to creak in her jaw, the pressure and slight pain helping to keep her focused and grounded. Her fingers curled into fists against the rock. "This timeline worked out for the better. I'm happy; everyone's happy. There's nothing  _wrong_  with it. There's no need to undo it. No reason for me to do it, at _all_."

The shadow shifted, moving closer to the child's front, looking down on her and making her flinch as it ran cold, senseless fingers through Frisk's still-damp bangs. It was an odd gesture, inappropriate considering the nature of their forced symbiotic relationship. Then again, Chara had always seemed to enjoy making others uncomfortable through close contact, with Frisk particularly. There was no actual sensation of touch between them, only a stiff wrongness in the displaced air as the fingers phased through Frisk's hair. Maybe no one else would have noticed, but Frisk did, and it made her feel sick.

With a jolt, the sweatered girl moved out of reach, disgust and annoyance clear on her face. She scooted back a few inches, pulling her knees up to her chest and crossing her arms over them, fixing Chara with a heated glare, one without fear, directed at the being so much like, and yet so very much  _unlike_  herself.

**Who said I ever needed a reason to do the things I do?** Chara cooed, not insulted in the least by Frisk's reaction. They merely considered her, barely perceivable smile quirked at a belittling angle as they slowly retracted their shadowed limb.  **I've never needed a reason before, and I surely don't need one now. Reasons create limits to an individual's abilities, and I've always liked keeping my options open.** They took in Frisk's tense posture with amusement.  **You seem awfully fired up tonight. What's the matter? Feeling a little hard pressed, are we?**  they teased mockingly.

"Chara," Frisk murmured lowly in a warning tone. Her fists clenched tighter.

The spirit rolled their crimson eyes.  **Yes, yes, whatever. Seriously?** **I've been urging you to reset for _weeks_ , and it's just  _now_  that you're deciding to fight me on this? I thought I beat that stubbornness out of you a long time ago, **they growled.

Frisk didn't grace them with an answer, so they continued. 

**Listen up, Frisk; and listen good. I'm _bored_. This stupid run has gone on for  _two whole months_. Two. I've had it up to here with this lovey-dovey hopeful future crap. **Their grin, something more sensed than seen, sharpened.  **I want** ** _excitement_** **. I want to** ** _play_** **, to bring everything back to square one so I can carry out more of my little games and experimentations. I want** ** _suffering_** **and** ** _hurt_** **. I want to go back and cause the havoc we do so well. Relive the old times, over and over again. Because, you know, we're really such a good team, you and I. Don't you think?**

Frisk's chest flared with hot determination, the feeling coursing up through her body like a shot of something familiarly molten. It was a rarer thing these days, but when it happened Frisk could feel the warmth of her strength course through her entire body. She straightened her spine in defiance, gripping her legs all the tighter.

"No."

**'No' we don't make a good team, or 'no' to resetting as a whole?**

"No resetting, Chara. Like I said. I'm done. You can't make me."

The spirit's expression turned to one of cold anger. **Is that so? Huh.** **Like you've ever had a choice in the past. What makes you think this will be any different?**

Frisk remained defiant, but the question reverberated in her mind, demanding a solution, but leaving her grasping at straws. The mental stumble must have shown in her eyes, or maybe it was just that Chara could reach down deep and sense her innermost thoughts, rip them from her like painful thorns.

Chara's anger dissolved into cruel amusement. 

**You don't have an answer to that, because you don't _have_ a choice. You _never_ _did_. **

Their ethereal voice was sharp and painful in Frisk's temple. She had never quite figured out how Chara could cause that ache in her head, that feeling of pressure, or presence. But it was there, and it hurt. It always hurt. 

**I don't** **_need_ ** **your consent, stupid. I'll get what I want, one way or another. You might still be able to dig your heels in...but in the end, you are _mine_. Your existence is _mine_. Your _power_ is mine.**

The living child winced, a hand snaking up to press against her forehead, feeling ill as the pain in her mind increased. She had figured out a long time ago that Chara's spirit resided within her, rooted deep in her mind and soul like a parasite, unseen, but felt. Sometimes, if she was being particularly stubborn, Chara would use their entangled network of emotions and sensations against her. Pain was easily inflicted, though how was a mystery, and it never seemed to hurt Chara, only Frisk. Headaches, twinges, burning; it was never enough to defeat Frisk completely, but it certainly slowed her down. Working through the pain was like trying to swim upstream, only the current was molasses and the water a liquid bed of nettles.

Chara's wrath could be exceptionally cruel, but this time Chara regained their composure almost immediately, sneering down at Frisk with contempt as the burning twinge subsided. There was a warning gleam in their eyes, one that told Frisk she had best back down, unless she was looking for a more severe punishment. Chara was a stick of unpredictable dynamite, unstable and dangerous, always one lit match away from exploding, and yet could conduct them-self with a controlled and measured self-discipline that was frightening.

**You lost the privilege of choosing your fate a long time ago. Oh, and don't act all indignant, you've had plenty of time to get used to the idea, so don't give me that look. It's not like it's that big a shock. We've been doing this for, what? Hundreds of runs? _Thousands?_ Don't pretend you're only just now growing a conscience.**

Frisk glanced away, her throat feeling even tighter. All manner of comebacks and barbed comments came to mind, but they stuck there as if frozen, useless and unhelpful. Not that she would ever truly resort to such petty squabbling, or, at least, she wouldn't have in the past. Frisk had never been one to bandy words with anyone, no matter how much the other person may deserve it. Words could be hurtful. They had the ability to build up or tear down in the most terrifying of ways. Chara, it seemed, was a master of both, and had no qualms about using the diverse skill to their advantage. Frisk had lost count of how many times the demon had built her up and torn her down in a matter of a few sentences, giving her hope and then snatching it away, taking a chunk of her soul along with it.

Frisk's frustration climbed higher, self-anger boiling within her at her seeming inability to gather up something to better her situation. That fact was made all the harder by the persistent understanding that  _Chara was right_. Frisk had long since lost the power to have any say in the things Chara wanted, and she had no one to blame but herself.

Chara's shadow watched Frisk with a satisfied grunt, reading her emotions like braille on a blackboard.  **You really are pathetic,** they chuckled.  **You sit there, stewing in your own anger, and yet you're too much of a wimp to stand up and give as good as you've gotten. Hah! Not that it would matter at all, I'd be able to take you on, even at your worst. In a sense, I'm more of you than you are at this point. Don't play nice and all I have to do is hurt you a little to get you back in line.**  A playful flash of an expression flitted across their spirit, the kind that meant mischief was to follow; and that was never good.  **But...Just out of curiosity, Frisk, imagine I _could_  be swayed. What would you say to me?**

Frisk looked up, anger momentarily dissipating in her confusion. "...What?"

**Imagine you _could_  get me to keep this worthless timeline going. Imagine your words could actually make some kind of a difference. What would you say? Come on.  _Convince me._**

Exhaustion lapped at Frisk's tenuous patience. "...I don't feel like playing games, Chara. Let's just drop it."

**No, no, I'm really curious now. I want to know what you would say? Would your words make me see reason? Would they touch my little rotten soul, bring a spark of my old, true self to life? You never know. We live in such a strange, fantastical world, perhaps there is still hope for someone like me, just like you're always saying. Like that idiot sentry in Snowdin is always telling us...before we slice his stupid head off-**

"Papyrus isn't stu-"

**What if all it took to end all this was you simply giving it a try?**  Their grin stretched.

"I've tried before," Frisk intoned tiredly. "Many times."

**Try again.**

"Chara-"

**Try. Again.**

Frisk sighed. She knew what they were doing. Trying to raise her hope, only to dash it to pieces, as usual. But the temptation was there, strong and thriving and real. Frisk couldn't let this go without at least giving it her best shot. She couldn't; even if that meant enduring another blow to her already badly wounded hope and determination. She  _had_  to try. She'd never forgive herself otherwise.

While her belief in Chara's redeem-ability was dwindling, there was still that sliver in her soul that insisted Chara  _could_  change, that they  _could_  be saved. It was a very Papyrus-esque mindset, Frisk knew, as Chara them-self had pointed out, and not entirely practical, but it was one she just couldn't shake. Frisk knew better than anyone, despite her own pacifistic nature, that sometimes peace wasn't the path life took, no matter how hard one tried to ensure it. Peace was preferable,  _always_  preferable, but not always possible. History was filled with circumstances of the unfavorable, and of people who had refused to let peace guide their lives. Choices made all the difference, and sometimes the wrong paths were taken. And those people, the ones who made those bad decisions...they had dragged the rest of the world down with them. History was doomed to repeat, in more ways than those found just within the resets. And yet, goodness had always prevailed eventually. Beaten, scorched, and limping, but forever moving forward.

With another resigned sigh, Frisk closed her eyes, willing her heart to flare with the love she'd never withhold from anyone, even her greatest foe.

"We've exhausted all the possibilities, Chara," she murmured weakly, but fervently. "We've found  _every_  secret, memorized  _every_  branch of dialogue, explored  _every_  cave and  _every_  possible outcome. We've saved everyone, and we've destroyed everyone, in  _every_  possible way, countless times. You've made me hurt them in  _every_  possible way, in  _every_  variation, and, Chara, I'm  _tired_. I don't  _want_  to hurt them anymore. They're my  _friends_. And I...I love them. With all my heart. What we've done to them, whether they remember or not, is...It's cruel. So very, very cruel."

Frisk fought back the angry tears that threatened to fall, her soul clenching and aching. She focused her gaze down at the surface of the rock she sat on, brow lowered as hot tears leaked down her cheeks.

"If it's excitement you want, then you should just let things be. The future holds more than the same stretch of the past, repeating over and over and over again. Let us all find peace. Please, Chara. There must be  _some_  good inside you. You have to feel  _something_  for them.  _Anything_."

She met what she imagined was Chara's gaze, expression desperate and pleading. " _Please._ "

Chara's face morphed into something truly remorseful, and for a single moment Frisk thought maybe she had reached them somehow. But, like the flip of a switch, that regret instantly turned into a mocking grin. 

**Really? That's all you've got to say? Gee, you're more pathetic than I thought.**  They leaned closer, enough so that Frisk had to tilt back slightly to keep her personal space intact.  **I _like_  making your little friends suffer, that's all there is to it. In fact, 'like' probably isn't strong enough a word. I LOVE how it makes us feel. My pleasure, and your pained disgust. Underground I hold the power to keep them together or tear them apart, piece by dusty piece; I CONTROL ALL THEIR FATES. Their cries and screams for mercy are music to my ears, their desperation amuses me and makes me feel alive. Without it I feel nothing, with it I have  _life_ , and I. Want. That. Back. I  _enjoy_  it.  _I crave it. I EXIST FOR IT._  **

They moved back a little, surveying Frisk's dismayed expression haughtily. The living girl was trembling, filled with hopeless anger and devastation. Chara smirked, delivering the final blow. 

**See? Your w** **ords mean nothing to me.** **If you _really_  loved them...you'd fight for them.**

Frisk sagged, defeated.

**Oh. That's right. Pacifists don't fight.** Chara sneered.  **Too bad for you.**   **And _them_.** **Besides, we haven't exhausted _every_  possibility. I've always got new things to try out. Maybe we can play with the comedian this time, he's always so much fun. Kill his brother right in front of him; force him to watch. It never gets old, seeing how that  _destroys him_. Oh! Or maybe we could let that fish-faced captain melt into a blue puddle again; that's always a load of laughs. What if the scientist were there to  _see that_ , huh? She'd probably off herself right then and there. And who says we've figured out  _every_  secret the world below ground has to offer, hmm? What about that mysterious gray door? What about that?**

Frisk clenched her teeth. "They have  _names_ , Chara" she growled. "They have personalities and lives and ambitions and-You can't just treat people like that!"

**Don't be an idiot. I do it all the time. I have the power to reset, or I do through you, and that means I make the rules. They're nothing more than _toys_. And toys are fun to play with, but they're also fun to _break_ _._  Fixing them only means more opportunities to break them again and again. So many possibilities. So many chances to try something new. An endless cycle, with  _no consequences_. A dream come true.**

"There are always consequences for the choices we make," Frisk recited in a choked whisper.

Chara's eyes flashed, anger palpable.  **Is that what _he_  told you? **They gave a laugh, scornful.  ** _He's_  the biggest fool of them all! Oh, come on, you know it's true. Huh. Judging us** **. _US_. He can't even begin to ** ** _understand_** **what we** _ **are** , _ **never mind determine what we _deserve_. He's just as guilty; leaving his friends and family to die without even trying to stop us until it's too late. If he had any sense at all he'd exact judgement on  _himself_  and  _BLAST_  his bony butt to the four corners of the earth!  _KABOOM!!! HEEHEEHEE!_**

Frisk hung her head, wet hair creating a curtain between her despaired expression and the demon who would surely find that emotion delicious. "Chara... _please_..."

**_Chara, please_ ,** they mimicked, mocking. **So you've resorted to _begging_  now? Is that really the extent of your so-called endless capacity? How cute.**

"Just one more night," Frisk pleaded, frustrated. She was full on crying now; not a messy, girly cry, but a deep, hurt, and silent leak of tears down her face. "Just one more night, Chara. Please, just...just  _one_  more night? I know you've let this timeline go on for so long, but right now is too soon, too sudden, I-"

Frisk's soul felt like it was splitting. She knew she was helpless in this case. What Chara wanted, Chara got; and whatever lenience she received were only those that met the other's fancy. Mercy was rare, and usually laced with a poisonous, hidden agenda. Kindness was only ever a means to a more devastating end.

The demon gazed on her in disgust.  **Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's not the end of the world. You'll get your turn for a happy ending again soon enough. I'm fair, aren't I? Letting you get your way from time to time? Just let me have a little fun first. I was nice. I gave you two months to quench your weird, pacifistic desires; to get it out of your system. Now it's** ** _my turn._**

"You weren't always like this," Frisk whispered weakly. She wiped her sleeve over her eyes, a futile attempt at stanching the flow of sorrow. "You  _couldn't_  have been...Mom talks about you sometimes, it makes her sad but she does. She loved you; they all did. Her, Asgore...Asriel. They would have done  _anything_  for you. They  _did_ do everything. They accepted you into their lives, adopted you as one of their own. Asriel gave his life for you, doesn't-" Frisk's voice broke, pained. She swallowed, not meeting Chara's crimson eyes. "Doesn't that mean  _anything_  to you?"

**No.** A sadder, more bitter note bled into the spirit's voice.  **Maybe once...But not anymore.**

"Mom says you were a good kid," Frisk pressed on. "A little high spirited maybe, but her stories never include you hurting others. She says you were curious, and brave, and that you stuck up for what you believed in...You had a part in their world, in a way that even I will never have. You were...You were a princess. You were a symbol of hope, to a people that had none. You were-"

**People change. Especially when they _die_. A helpless child in a land of idiots who know  _nothing_  of human illnesses.** Chara ground their teeth.  **They were fools to think they could do anything to save me. They put too much faith in what they thought I was. A savior. Pfft. Right. A savior who couldn't tell the difference between butter and buttercups. If I could mess that up, there was no way I could save them.**  Chara's frown deepened.  **Dad called me the future of humans and monsters. He was so, so sure that I would do good by them; that I'd make a difference. It was his stupid ideas that ended up getting me _killed_. I felt I had to fulfill the role he and Mom had dumped on my shoulders. So I took a chance. The  _biggest,_ most _desperate_  chance. I gave up everything for them. My very life.**

"That was brave," Frisk murmured. She couldn't hold back a gentle smile, the anger of before softened by her empathy. "You loved them too, once. They were your family."

Chara gave a snarl, the tenderness gone up in smoke like flash paper. 

**Yeah, and see where it got me? I'm _dead_ , Frisk. My body lies under the yellow flowers of the Ruins. My stupid 'mother' dumped me there and  _left_   me. My 'father' tore my 'family' apart with his idiocy the minute I was gone, and my 'brother'...** The spirit practically hissed. _**My 'brother'**_ **messed up everything and ended up destroying himself along with me, the _FOOL._  And still, after all my sacrifice, monsters remained trapped underground.I left the Surface to find a better life, and all I received was a fate worse than death. Monsters can't be trusted; neither can humans. They're all just a bunch of self-centered imbeciles. I  _delight_  in the ability I now hold to cause them suffering through  _you_. It's not even a  _fraction_  of what they  _deserve_. FOR WHAT THEY  _DID TO ME!_**

"Chara, I-"

**Shut up. Do what I say, or I'll give you something to cry about.**

More hot tears leaked down Frisk's face, unashamedly. "I'm tired of being your puppet!" she choked.

**Puppet, huh? Maybe you should have thought things through a bit more before you took me up on _our little deal_. **Chara gave a low chuckle, cruel and merciless.  **Oh well. Too late now. D** **on't forget, you're the one who made all this possible. It was _you_ who first grew tired of the mundane repeat existence of the resets. It was ** _ **you**  _ **who longed for something** _ **different**_ **, something off script and exciting. It was you who called on my name, snatched up my offer like it meant the world to you. Don't play the innocent, no one's _that_ naive. And don't forget that it was by  _your hand_ , and your hand  _alone_ , that the first monster life was taken, the powdered dust staining your little delicate fingers gray, ruining your clothes-**

"Chara, stop!  _Stop it!_ "

**It's the truth! Don't**   **deny it!**

Frisk flinched, curling further into herself. She couldn't deny it. "I know..." she wept. "I...I  _know_."

Chara huffed dismissively.  **And you have the _gall_  to ask for  _more time_. Do you really think you deserve it? After what you've done?**

There was only one answer. "...No."

**You and your stupid ideals and stubbornness. What do you even think more time will buy you? Their forgiveness? Even if they did somehow remember what you've done, do you really think they'd forgive**   **you? Their supposed savior who allowed them to be _tortured beyond comprehension?!_ If I can't have their love, than neither can you! You think they'd love a _murderer?_ Forgive one?**

"...N-No." Her voice was little more than a croak.

**Exactly.**  Chara shook their head, disappointed.  **And yet you still try. Isn't that just precious. Do you really, truly think you'll ever be free of me? You who can't even stay your hand from taking the life of a whimsun? Or a froggit? Or our own _mother?_**

Frisk shook her head, a faint sob tearing from her throat.

**Good.** Chara grinned, satisfied.  **At least now we understand each other.**  

The specter drifted back a little, taking Frisk in with a long, contemplative look. They seemed to be considering something, weighing it in their mind. Finally, they gave their eyes an annoyed roll, like Frisk was the bane of their existence. 

**Fine. Whatever. You don't have to reset until later tonight. But that means no whining next run when I start gutting your little friends, alright? It's so _annoying._  Next reset is  _mine_. Interfere, and I'll make those you love suffer tenfold of what I've already got planned. I'll twist their souls so mercilessly they'll be  _begging_  for us to kill them.  _Got it?_**

Something like hope bloomed in Frisk's chest. She was almost ashamed of how something so small and nonsensical could make her feel so sickeningly grateful. She nodded so hard her neck hurt, willing to take any circumstance as long as it meant prolonging the inevitable a little bit longer. It was foolish, maybe. A childish hope, but she owed it to the others; after the horrible fate she had allowed Chara to exact upon them.

It was the least Frisk could do. 

"Thank you, Chara," she breathed. "Thank you."

**_Tch._  Don't get too excited. I'm doing it because it benefits  _me_ , not you. Not anyone else either. **They glared.  **And don't get that sappy 'anyone can be a good person if they just try' look again. You and I both know how unlikely _that_  is.** **And what befalls those that keep such beliefs close to their heart. Or, in a more specific case, their soul.**  They huffed a scornful laugh, before fixing Frisk with a warning expression. **Late tonight, reset. Or I'll  m a k e   y o u  .**

A cold feeling washed over Frisk, promising great pain if she resisted again.

She really had no choice.

"...Yes, Chara."

**Good girl. Now, let's get-**

"kid?!"

Frisk startled hard at the shout that rang out nearby, a third voice, a _real_ voice; one that she recognized with both a wave of relief and a thrill of fear. She gasped, legs kicking out from under her chin and causing her to hiss in pain as her bare heels skidded against the rough rock surface beneath her. She must have been loud enough to be heard by the newcomer, because, after a beat of silence, the voice rose up to her again.

"uh, kid? you up there?"

Frisk twisted her torso around with a jerk, remaining seated as she peered down over the back edge of her perch while hurriedly wiping away her tears on her sleeve. Evidence of her emotions would only make the conversation to come harder than it needed to be.

Below, on the ground and a good eight or nine feet lower than Frisk herself, stood a monster made entirely of bone, his build short and somewhat stocky. His face, or skull rather, was round and considerably pudgy in its own way. The majority of his features was taken up by two, dark holes - his eye sockets, from within shown two tiny points of light. They gleamed white through the darkness, twin pricks like crystal, winking out every so often as he blinked up at her, expression outwardly calm but searching, maybe a little tense too. He was dressed in his usual outfit; an old, white, stretched-out t-shirt, a pair of black track shorts with white stripes on the sides, and his favorite blue jacket draped thickly over his upper half. It gave him a good deal more mass than he had, something Frisk was reminded of every time she hugged him. Beneath all that material, the skeleton monster was really quite thin, a fixture of smooth, frail bone and magic joints holding him together. On his feet he wore worn and dirty pink slippers, a pair that sorely needed to be replaced before they unraveled completely on their own.

"...Sans?"

The skeleton perked up at the sound of Frisk's voice, something just barely like relief washing over his face. His shoulders relaxed, posture becoming far more at ease than it had been a moment before. Frisk realized he was a little out of breath, and she vaguely wondered how long she had been sitting out in the forest that even the seemingly unflappable Sans had been worried enough to come looking for her.

"oh," Sans released in a huffed breath, grinning like he'd stumbled upon the greatest treasure in the world. "there you are, kiddo. i -heh -figured i'd find you out here...somewhere...heh heh. funny how you always find what you're looking for in the last place you look. whew..."

"Y-Yeah, um-" Frisk winced, knowing his words were meant as a joke, but only succeeding in making her feel all the more guilty. "I-"

Frisk shot a panicked glance back toward Chara, half expecting them to be leering down at Sans, like they sometimes did, only to find that the apparition had faded away. They were still there, Frisk knew, somewhere, perhaps nothing more than a weighted presence in the back of her mind, but it didn't matter. Frisk felt more at ease with them out of sight.

She took a shuddering breath, mentally praising Sans for his good timing. The skeleton always seemed to be there when she truly needed him most, both on the Surface and back in the Underground. Whether he knew it or not, he was often the pillar, or at least  _one_  of the pillars, of her life that gave her the most strength to keep going. To keep her fighting against Chara's will, for something better, even when she failed almost every single time. There was something about him that just...encouraged a person to do their best. Not in the same way as Papyrus, Sans's brother, did...but in his own quiet, warm, gentle way.

"hey, you, uh...okay up there?" Sans edged his way a few steps to the right, head tilted back, trying to get a better look at her. She couldn't be much more than a hazy silhouette against the stars from his point of view. "sheesh...that's a pretty big rock..."

Frisk giggled softly, trying to force together her still shattered emotions, all while appearing like her normal self. "It's not  _that_  big," she countered, good naturedly.

Carefully shifting into a crouch, Frisk eased herself forward a little, toward the edge of the boulder, fixing Sans with a forced smile and hoping he wouldn't be able to see the red puffiness around her eyes from crying. A lifetime living in the Underground had granted Sans a keen sense of night vision, a trait many of the other monsters shared.

"And yeah, I'm fine."

"oh, well, that's good." Sans shook his head in wonderment, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "heh. say what you want, kid, but i think that's one of the biggest rocks i've ever seen. in fact, getting stuck up there would really-"

Frisk already knew what was coming.

"-leave you between a  _rock and a hard place_."

She sent him a look, trying hard and failing to hide the more genuine smile from her face. "Did you have a reason to be looking for me, Uncle Sans? Or did Undyne punt you out of camp again?" She grinned. "Needed someone less violent to practice puns on?"

The skeleton chuckled at the unofficial title. 'Uncle Sans' was something Frisk called him every once in a while, sometimes teasingly, sometimes as a term of endearment. He never complained, so Frisk imagined he liked it, at least to some degree. She typically used it when she wanted to make a point, or when she knew it would cause him to pause and consider her more closely, those bright eyes taking in the true her beneath what she let show on the outside. Sometimes, if Frisk timed it right, it would catch Sans off guard; a small victory, considering that Sans could basically roll with just about any situation, unperturbed.

"heh. more or less. what? not even a pity laugh? man, you got a heart of  _stone_ , kid." He chuckled again, the sound trickling up to Frisk from below. That was followed by the soft sound of his feet shifting nervously, an edge of uneasiness bleeding into his tone. "truth is, tori's been getting kinda antsy, and she sent me to come find you. mary'll be here soon, and everyone's gonna want to get going. didn't want you getting left behind, being the ambassador and all..."

"...O-Oh."

Was it really that late already? Frisk felt all the cheer Sans's presence had brought her die in her chest in an instant. She was sore from sitting still so long, her stomach aching and hungry. She felt tired, and yet it seemed her whole night, her  _last night this run_ , was already planned out for her. She sighed, wishing she didn't have so many responsibilities, but as the ambassador between humans and monsters, it was unavoidable.

"Alright," she replied slowly. "Well...I'll be right down. Just wait a minute, okay?"

"okay. not goin' anywhere. you got this, kiddo. you  _rock_."

"...Really, Sans?"

"hey, what can i say? these rock puns are real  _gems_."

"Uuuuugh. How do you think of so many puns about rocks?" Frisk laughed in mock frustration. She had begun to scoot herself closer to the edge of the boulder, feet dangling out high over Sans's upturned head.

The skeleton grinned, his eyes shining brighter in obvious merriment. " _sedimentary_ , my dear frisk. if you like, i  _shale_  think of a few more."

Frisk edged closer, hands braced for balance. "What does sedimentary mean?"

"eh, rock that's formed from sediment deposited by water or air."

"Oh. What's sediment?"

"you know that slimy, silty dirt that settled over the rocks in the creek? especially when no one's gone swimming in a while?"

"Yeah?"

"close enough."

Frisk laughed. "Yeah, well, do you think you can hold off on the funny stuff until I get down from here? If you make me crack up on the way down, I might slip and fall. Then I'll be  _really_  cracked up. As in my bones."

Sans shrugged, nonchalant as ever as he tucked his hands even further into his pockets. To any untrained eye he would have appeared unconcerned, but Frisk thought she noticed his shoulders tense again a little at the idea of her losing her grip and taking a tumble.

" 'k," he answered, smile twitching a little at the edges. " just take your time. your mom'll skin me alive if i let anything happen to you. i made a promise, remember?"

Frisk gave a soft snort and rolled her sore-from-crying eyes. "You don't  _have_  skin, Sans."

The skeleton flashed her a knowing smirk. "wouldn't stop her. being on your mom's  _baaaaaa_ -d side is a fate worse than death. you know what they say about a woman's scorn."

"No," Frisk huffed. She maneuvered her body into place, readying to start her journey downward. "I don't. But I'm sure you've had plenty of practice."

"ouch."

Climbing up to her contemplation spot on the boulder was always a lot easier than climbing down. Frisk didn't know why, it just seemed to be the way things worked. She had never been one to fear heights, or fear much of anything really, but that didn't mean that the impressive stretch of rock below her didn't make her brain feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. She surveyed the way down in the hazy glow of the moon and star light with a critical eye. There were footholds in the rock face, hard to see unless you knew just where to look for them. Time spent exploring the rock and its surrounding forest meant Frisk had memorized every inch of its pitted surface. Even not being able to see everything clearly, she wasn't worried. She shuffled her legs further over the side, bare toes twitching until they found the first foothold, and then eased herself over the rim, turning over as she did so. One foot at a time, one hand over the other, she began to make her way down toward solid ground.

"Besides," she continued with a grunt. "Mom would  _never_  hurt you. She likes you too much." She paused and glanced over her shoulder, not wanting to miss Sans's reaction.

She wasn't disappointed.

The skeleton's face had turned a faint shade of cyan, only visible because the rest of the world around him was so dark. In daylight it would have been almost impossible to see, especially to the unobservant eye, but here, Frisk could see it easily. It was Sans's own unique form of a blush; the only telling sign of his embarrassment. His skull had sunk down into the hood of his jacket, the blue fabric pooled around his neck, effectively hiding the lower portion of his face. It was rare to catch Sans off guard like that, but then again Frisk was probably one of the few who know how. She'd had plenty of time to pinpoint just what would make him turn shy, even if the rest of him was still a mystery.

The sight made her laugh out loud, the sound carrying and echoing around the clearing. "Oh my gosh, your face!" she wailed in glee.

Sans hunkered further into his coat. "h-heh. yeah, well, you're mom likes everybody," he mumbled back, hardly audible.

Frisk knew better. Sans...liked her mother, Toriel. Not in a like- _like_  sort of way, but it was easy to see she meant something to him. They shared a similar sense of humor, a similar caring nature for those around them. They brought out the best in each other, Sans chasing away Toriel's past sorrows and Toriel, in turn, giving him that loving friendship that Sans seemed to have never had from anyone other than his brother. There had been some teasing in camp, of course, especially from some of the other guards and sentries, that Sans and Toriel were growing to be more than just friends. Sans assured them that wasn't the case, and Frisk believed him. They were just close, in a way only those who share a common understanding of the world can be. It did make for some hilarious, teasing remarks though, and Sans being Sans, those were hard to come by.

Frisk shook her head with fondness. "At the most, she might scold you. Maybe submit you to some gentle nagging."

If possible, Sans paled. "shoot. and that's somehow supposed to make me feel better?"

"You get away with far too much as is," Frisk countered with mock annoyance. "A little scolding never hurt anyone."

Besides, Sans was used to getting chided for his behavior. Not that he got into trouble often or anything, it was just that, for more motherly monsters like Toriel, and apparently Papyrus, Sans was a near constant source of worry. His low HP, matched with his lazy, slovenly habits, awoke in others a frustrated concern, and Sans's tendency to dodge questions only furthered that fact. He was a monster of annoying little secrets...But he was too well liked by all to truly be called out for it.

Frisk continued her way down the rock's steep incline, eyes scrunched up as she smiled. Her foot lighted on a new little ledge, shuffling a bit to ensure it was the right spot. She listened to Sans mutter below her.

"heh. easy for you to say. try telling that to-"

_SHKTT!_

"Sans!"

It happened almost too fast to comprehend. One minute Frisk was secured firmly to the rock face, artfully balanced and safe, and the next the world felt disturbingly turned wrong way up. A huge rock like that, solid and majestic as it was, shouldn't have had any weak spots. Frisk herself knew its rough edifice well enough to probably draw it on paper from memory, complete with each and every pock mark and ridge numbered and labeled.

But, apparently, she hadn't been familiar with it enough. 

With a great, mossy crumble the foothold Frisk's right foot had been perched on gave way in a shower of fine dust and pebbles. Balance lost, her front slammed painfully against the rock's side, her hip protesting sharply and knocking the wind out of her as she yelped her friend's name, before her hands lost their grip in the resulting jolt. Before she could blink, she was falling backward, sure to bruise and batter her body on the way down until she landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom, far below. For one, harrowing eternity, she was suspended in air, tumbling head over heels, falling down with no hope of escaping injury, or  _worse_. Humans, for all their meaty exterior, were fragile things underneath. Frisk knew that better than most, having died more times than she could count. All it would take would be her landing wrong on her neck. A sharp snap, and it would all be over. Chara would have their reset.

Time seemed to slow as Frisk fell toward what could be that run's final moment-

And then something warm, blue, and familiar wrapped achingly tight around her soul.

Frisk gasped, hands wrenching up to claw at her chest, groaning in discomfort at the feeling of pressure in her body as her fall was abruptly aborted. Her vision blurred, her wet bangs slapping into her eyes, making them sting. She trembled, breath ragged as her gaze slowly lowered to the blue glow coming from beneath her sweater.

Her normally red soul was tinged in vibrant cerulean. It might have been beautiful, if not for the ache in her chest and the sudden onslaught of unwanted memories. Images of a different time, a different run, assaulted her mind's eye like wasps, one startling recollection after another, all in quick succession and rapidly increasing in speed.

Gold, blood spattered tiles.

Fake sunlight streaming through tall, intricate windows.

Pillars stained with red hand prints, smeared and dripping.

The tinge of copper in the air.

The glow and hum of magic.

The shifting of slippered feet against a gritty surface.

The thrill and terror of fighting for one's life.

The horror of judgement.

The pain.

The fear.

The  _guilt_.

The  _hopelessness_.

For a single, horrible, endless moment it consumed her, blotting out all reason or logic. Frisk was back in the Hall, facing down a friend she would do anything to save, his magic choking her soul and bone attacks piercing deep into her flesh. The agony was like nothing she had ever felt, and beyond it all was Chara's crazed laughter, echoing in her mind.

Frisk was vaguely aware of how hard she was breathing. Hyperventilating. Gasping for air that felt too thick, too absent to be accepted into her small lungs. She was shaking, the feeling oddly strong as she spiraled and swirled in her senseless panic. But the magic hold on her soul had dropped; she wasn't quite sure just when it had, but it was gone now. She was on the ground, or...maybe she was? She thought she might be. Her knees were pressed to something. Something course and cold. Like grass. Was it grass? She didn't know. There was something wrapped around her, pressed against her tight and firm, yet as gentle as gentle can be. Something...familiar? Her first instinct was to push it away, to free herself and separate from the touching and the holding, even as she slowly registered how soft it was all at the same time. How careful; like anything more might break her.

There was a voice too. A voice that sounded frightened and desperate. Low and soothing, even as it shook unsteadily, close to her ear. It too was familiar, and it never sounded like that...did it? No. No, it wasn't meant to sound like that. Never. And yet, that same voice slowly drew her back to consciousness; back to her right mind. Pushing past her panic, and her fear, and those dreadful memories and images. Frisk focused on the voice and what it was saying, and her awareness slowly clawed its way back to the surface.

"-isk? frisk, come on, buddy, it's okay. i've gotchya. you're alright. just took a little jolt, that's...that's all, 'k? shhh...just breathe, kiddo-"

And then suddenly Frisk was back. The sky above was still a canopy of twinkling stars, a carousel of blending blues, and pinks, and purples. The silhouettes of craggy pines still cut upward into the night canvas, dark and black against the aurora of the heavens. An endless cluster of pin-point lights still outlined the reaching arm of the Milky Way galaxy; still a steady reminder of just how small a place the earth was compared to the rest of the universe. A mere floating spec in the ocean of space.

Someone was holding her, firmly still, though now she could feel it a little more sharply, hard fingertips digging incrementally into her upper back. A chest, sharp and angular but well padded by fabric, pressed against her own, trying to get her to follow its example as it rose in fell with forced regularity. Something caged in her sides, holding her in every sense of the word, protecting her from everything beyond it. Those murmured encouraging words finally registered, and Frisk felt the last of her consciousness snap into place.

It was Sans who was holding her. He had sat himself down in front of her, his legs pegging her in as she knelt between them. They were pressed close, at the base of the giant boulder. The cerulean glow from her chest had vanished completely, and with it that unbearable pressure. Frisk was still gasping, but the air sucked into her lungs unhindered now, a relief that brought stinging tears to her eyes. Her face was pressed into the skeleton's coat as he rocked her, as he tried to calm her, even as his own composure teetered on the brink of all out panic. Frisk realized her arms were laying limp at her sides, lifeless, and shakily she rose them upward to wrap her friend in an equally desperate hold. She heard him swear softly, something he rarely did in her company, and her brain's odd focus on that fact made her chuckle, if not a little bit hysterically. Like a broken little doll in need of fixing, she settled more against him, seeking that odd warmth that skeleton monsters seemed to possess.

"easy, kiddo, shhh...in and out, alright? in....and out. like me. in....and out."

"M'alright," Frisk slurred, dazed and suddenly very tired. Her head hurt, and her ears felt like they were stuffed with damp cotton, hearing muffled. They were ringing too, all her senses a little too sharp, and a little too much. It was clearing, going away slowly, but for the moment it only served as another overwhelming factor in her hypersensitivity.

Frisk ran a hand over her face as she sat back, feeling flushed and ill, her stomach turning somersaults. Sans released her without a word more, letting the two of them pull apart reluctantly, and Frisk noticed vaguely how he kept one hand just barely touching her elbow. Frisk tuned him out for a moment, taking stock of her own body; damage assessment. She seemed unharmed; not a scratch on her, though her front hurt from where she had thumped hard against the boulder's side before gravity had truly taken hold. Other than that, and being a little shaken, she appeared to be perfectly fine. Physically.

Satisfied, at least for the time being, that she was truly all in one piece, Frisk refocused her attention on the monster in front of her.

"-and i didn't mean to grab you so hard," Sans was saying, his words gradually making sense to her recovering auditory. He was stumbling to explain himself, hushed and frantic. Scared, she realized. "it was so sudden and i didn't have much time to-it was a reflex, kid - i'm so sor-"

"It's fine," Frisk said more strongly, cutting him off, not angrily, just more certainly. She cleared her throat, taking notice of her surroundings. Her shaking wasn't stopping, but it was diminishing, getting less intense. She was hyper aware of Sans's hand on her arm now, but made herself refrain from pulling away. He didn't deserve that. He wouldn't understand, and he would be hurt if she did. Sans had never picked her up by her soul before in this timeline. Papyrus had, but his magic felt different. Less...intimidating. It wasn't connected to an endless bank of horrifying memories. Of that same magic slamming her body against walls; racing her toward sharpened bones that sprang up in her path. Intending to hurt. Intending to kill.

Frisk winced, shoving the pseudo-sensations away once more, with more control this time.

_He doesn't know._

_He doesn't remember._

_It isn't his fault._

**Next time we'll get _him_.**

Frisk blanched at Chara's unwanted commentary from inside her head. A fleeting thought careened in and out of Frisk's mind; a suspicion that her fall had really been Chara's doing. Ghosts could do that, right? Manipulate the physical world, if they tried hard enough, or knew how? Then again, Chara had never shown herself to have that ability before. Never in all the resets. So it was merely an unfortunate accident then. One that could have cost Frisk her life in this run.

Frisk could almost feel Chara smirking from the recesses of her subconscious.

Sans had risen to his feet now, his hand extended.

**We'll make him _pay_.**

Instead of pulling away from her friend, Frisk shakily accepted Sans's hand, the skeleton carefully helping her to her feet. "Sorry...guess my soul just doesn't like blue magic," Frisk supplied, with all the casual tact she could muster - something, hilariously enough, that she had learned from Sans. "Guess it just sort of... _blue_  my mind."

She grinned, raising her eyes to meet his, but Sans didn't look amused. He still looked spooked out of his skull.

"kid-"

"Aw, come on, Uncle Sans. It was just a little tumble. I'm perfectly fine. I've had way worse, and you know it. Your magic just startled me, that's all. But I'd rather be a little scared for a minute than crack my head open on my favorite climbing rock." She reached out and took his hands. He was trembling almost as much as she was. "You saved me. Nothing bad happened, and I'm okay." For tension's sake she added, "Mom's not going to skin you alive, I promise."

That struck him funny, and he released a bark of laughter that was equal parts giddy relief and equal parts strangled terror. He gripped her hands in return, giving them a tremulous squeeze. "i know i'm a pretty good lookin' guy, but don't you think you're a little young to be  _falling_  for me, kiddo?"

Frisk giggled. Suddenly overcome by a wave of affection, she lurched forward to latch onto the small monster's front, hugging him tightly.

"w-whoa! hey, u-uh..."

She wanted him to know she didn't blame him, but she didn't have the words. Whatever was stewing in that empty skull of his, she didn't want it to stay there. He didn't have any idea why she had freaked out over his magic. In this timeline there had never been a desperate showdown between them; no tooth-and-nail fight; no break of trust. He had met her in the Judgement Hall and given a calm, practiced speech, hands tucked casually in his pockets, telling her how he had watched, how she had gained love, not LOVE. She didn't want him to think she feared him, even if he had no grounds for wondering if that was the case. She loved him like family, and he didn't deserve that cruel label; that title as Judge that, in other resets, tore their friendship apart at the seams, again and again.

Tears pricked in the corners of her tired eyes as she nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the familiar comforting scent of ketchup, bone, and grass. He was still taller than Frisk by three or four inches, short by human standards, and almost outlandishly small by monsterkind's. Then again, monsters came in all shapes and sizes. Sans was just among the smaller percentage that thrived within the monster population.

A twinge of sadness spiked in Frisk's chest at the realization that she would never surpass her friend in height; that she would never be able to lord it over  _him_  for once. By the end of the night, she'd lose the good inch she had gained over the course of the past two months, her recent birthday undone and forgotten in the coming reset.

The thought wounded her more than she would have expected, and she found herself pressing herself a little more desperately into Sans's chest, small arms around his waist and pulling him closer. It was weird, hugging a being made of bones. She could feel where his rib cage stopped, the rungs of bone replaced with empty space. Squeeze hard enough and she'd be hugging the thin pillar of his lumbar vertebrae, that stack of little bones that connected his top half to his pelvis. Frisk would never be that harsh though, for fear of hurting him.

The skeleton lifted his arms, momentarily caught off guard and uncertain of how to respond to the situation. He wasn't typically one for close contact, though both Frisk and Papyrus were a common exception. Sudden, wild displays of emotion sometimes left him a little dazed, but give him a minute and he'd return whatever love he'd been given. It was just another one of those funny little quirks that made Sans who he was. A punny little skeleton monster who, despite having no internal organs, had one of biggest hearts of anyone Frisk had ever known, rivaled perhaps by only his brother, Papyrus.

Sans blinked, his arms slowly lowering to wrap gently around Frisk's shoulders. He melted into the more familiar embrace, taking his own brand of comfort from the gesture. But he was still shaking slightly, a soft rattle of bones betraying him.

"Are...Are you okay?" She felt his breath hitch.

He let loose a chuckle that sounded anything but okay. "you just fell, what, eight feet? - and you're asking _me_ if _i'm_ okay?"

"Didn't mean to scare you," Frisk pressed on, ignoring his dodge. "I know you don't like using your magic like that."

There was a long pause following that statement, before Sans murmured, low and soft, "...heh. i...wasn't aware you...knew that."

"O-Oh, um-"

Right. He wouldn't know she knew that, would he. Past resets had taught Frisk that Sans only fought - truly fought - when he was left with no other option. Likewise, he had always seemed reluctant to use his magic at all, other than his 'shortcuts', and those he used less now than he used to. It hadn't taken Frisk long to put two and two together, and conclude that, for whatever reason, Sans preferred not to call on his magic if he could help it. Without him remembering the genocide runs, Sans would have no context of how Frisk had figured that out. As far as he was concerned, he had never even demonstrated his magic in her presence, beyond a few pranks and acts of laziness.

Frisk internally winced at her slip. Usually she was a lot more careful. Then again, what did it matter? He wouldn't figure it out, not in the span of a single night. The next reset would wipe away her mistake long before then. Frisk merely settled for hugging her friend a little more firmly.

"Just something I figured out," she deflected. "More of a hunch, really, but..." She let that sentence die out, hoping it would be enough. Apparently it was.

Sans gave a soft sigh. "is this a 'thank you' for catching you," he murmured quietly, like a breath, "or a 'sorry' for scaring the marrow out of me?" He chuckled weakly, sounding about as tired as Frisk felt. He soothed a hand over her upper back, following the course of her spine, an apology continued without words.

Frisk nodded, angling her head back so that her face was tilted up toward his, chin planted in his sternum. If he noticed the slight sheen of tears in her eyes, he didn't call her out on it. He probably figured it was just a byproduct of her close call.

"Mm. Both."

"nah, can't be both. multitasking hurts my brain." A beat, and then as an afterthought, "not that i have one. a brain, i mean."

Frisk released a wet laugh, reburying her face into his chest, giving him a final, gentle squeeze before letting him go. Sans took a step back, his hands finding their way to his pockets almost automatically. He glanced back up at the boulder, eyeing it with a new sense of unease.

"what were you doing up there, anyway?" he asked curiously. "i know we've kinda moved up in the world, but...this is a little over the top, don't you think?"

Frisk gave a shrug, her smile still in place but shaky at the corners as she stepped back as well, giving Sans his space. "I was just...thinking," she answered lamely. She put her hands behind her back and gave a nearby dandelion flower an absentminded kick. It was one that had already turned to fuzz, the floating seeds dislodging and ascending lazily on the gentle breeze.

"...thinking," Sans repeated, incredulous.

"Mm hm."

The skeleton looked at her, and for the first time that night, Sans seemed to be taking in her appearance. Frisk knew exactly what he would find. Her normally wavy brown hair was straightened and limp from moisture, the thick locks dark in comparison to the paleness of her face. In fact, she probably seemed paler than normal, almost white, though that may or may not have been an illusion caused by the moonlight. Her eyes though, no doubt looked strangely puffed. Sans wasn't an expert in the workings of human biology, but he had known Frisk long enough now to know when she had been crying. More crying than her few moments of half formed tears would account for. That realization surely tugged at his soul uncomfortably, but he managed to keep his expression neutral.

"heh. must have been some pretty intense gear turning," he hummed.

Sans reached out slowly, carefully brushing aside Frisk's damp bangs with his hand, revealing more of her light brown eyes. It was almost a mirror image of what Chara had done earlier, only without Frisk's stomach turning in disgust. His words were joking, but warm sincerity blanketed his every syllable. He can see her now, Frisk knows, her soft eyes that are probably telling him all he really needs to know. Sans was like that. Frisk wasn't sure if it was just a natural ability he had, or whether it had something to do with him being a Judge, but he could always see through everything and everyone. Certainly not all-knowing, but it sometimes felt pretty close to it. And even then, whether Sans knew she was hiding something or not, the skeleton kept his expression and voice even and calm.

"either you took a dip or you're sweating like a moldsmal in hotland."

Frisk tittered at the image, ducking out of his reach with all the grace he had taught her. She wiped a sleeve of her sweater against her brow, dislodging the telling wetness.

"I took a bath, silly; that's why I'm so damp!" she exclaimed. "Most of it's water from that. I haven't had a chance to grab a towel. The rest  _might_  be sweat from climbing up and down big rocks." She crossed her arms over her chest, nodding with fake seriousness. "Or falling off of them. That's a  _lot_  of work."

The easiness of her response seemed to calm some of Sans's barely visible uncertainty. He smiled down at her, shoulders hitching up a moment in a light huff of amusement. "yeah, i bet. not that i'd, you know, know from experience or anything. i've never climbed a rock a day in my life. let alone taken a dive off one."

"Because you're a lazybones," Frisk answered dutifully. Papyrus wasn't around to say it, so the responsibility naturally fell to her.

Sans chuckled, and Frisk couldn't help but grin along with him, liking the warm, pleasant sound. Sans's laugh was a quiet, deep tone; hearty and usually quite genuine in nature. Unlike the smile he tended to wear pasted on his bony face. Frisk knew why  _she_  sometimes sported that same mask, but had never quite been able to understand why Sans would have a need to do so as well. Frisk was intent on unraveling the mystery that was Sans, someday.

Someday, maybe, but not today.

Not tonight.

"i think you should probably refrain from climbing up into high places unsupervised," Sans continued, a little more seriously. "i know you're a big, mature kid and all, but...we're kinda attached to ya. it'd really be a shame if something bad happened."

Frisk felt humbled by his sincerity. "Alright. I won't. Sorry I scared you so badly, Uncle Sans."

He shrugged. "it's okay, bucko. besides, i think i scared you just as bad. seems like we're even, so how about we just forget about it, yeah?"

"...Okay." Frisk was only too happy to oblige.

"good. sounds good." He easily switched back to a more comfortable topic. "so...your mom finally got you to bathe, huh? heh." He somehow managed to wrinkle up the ridge of his nasal cavity, making a face. "that  _stinks_."

Frisk snorted, giving the skeleton a gentle shove. "Won't be long before Mom comes after you for the same reason," she teased. "Then you'll have her  _and_  Papyrus trying to get you to wash up."

Sans's eye lights shrunk comically. Which, of course, only set Frisk off laughing again. Sans gave a grunt, muttering something under his breath, feigning annoyance but obviously entertained.

"alright, alright. we better get you back to camp. you're mom's gonna keel over with worry if we don't. took me long enough to find you. plus all our extracurricular adventures. as is we're probably in for a lecture."

Frisk deflated instantly, her somber thoughts returning with a vengeance. "Oh...Right. Okay."

All merriment left her expression, probably leaving her face looking even paler than before. The sudden change was doubtlessly jarring, and Sans seemed to falter, mentally floundering, as though thinking over what he had just said to try and figure out where he had gone wrong.

"...okay," Sans echoed softly. His uncertainty was clear in his tone. "sounds...like a plan."

"Yeah."

A moment passed, neither one speaking or moving, and then he started forward, slippered feet soundless in the grass. Frisk fell in step with him automatically, his slow, lumbering pace easy to keep up with. They kept walking, step by arduous step, starting to leave the tall rock and its star-studded clearing behind, but the more steps they took, the more Frisk shrank in on herself, and Sans's smile along with her. Frisk could feel him watching her, his skull facing forward but his eye lights seemingly drawn in her direction. She knew she was being particularly transparent, but she was honestly too tired to care. Let him look. Let him see the weight that pressed down on her. Maybe he could comfort her. Maybe he could understand.

**Don't be an idiot.**

No. No, he couldn't possibly understand.

But that didn't stop Frisk from hoping he would.

They continued on for several more steps, until they were almost crossing into the shadows of the thickly treed forest, and then Sans surprised Frisk by pulling up short, an arm going out to bring her to a halt as well. 

"you know," he said out of nowhere. Frisk blinked, looking over at him with an air of weary curiosity. "maybe you should stay in camp tonight. let the others go to the meeting without you."

For a moment, Frisk stared at him in open shock. Then, with a shake of her head she cleared her thoughts. "Sans, I'm the  _ambassador_. This is an official, in-town meeting. I have to be there." She started forward again, Sans matching her step for step. He shrugged, carefully maneuvering over a hidden stone like he could see it plain as day.

"you're  _also_  nine years old. and there ain't nobody going to flip out over a child of nine needing a night off."

Frisk sighed, her posture slumping. "It's not that easy."

"sure it is. it's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask permission, right? so you don't go, your mom and Asgore make up some excuse, the meeting goes on as usual and you get a little rest. there ya go. everyone's happy. it's not like the others can't hold down one meeting out of the hundreds you've attended. the people of ebott city already know you're awesome. they'll appreciate your awesomeness a whole lot more if it's something they only get to see once in a while, instead of all of the time."

Frisk snorted, that dreadful numb feeling dissolving into its usual mischief.

"So, what do I do then?" she asked with a smirk. "Stay in and be lazy like you?"

"hey, hey, i have a pretty active social life, thank you very much, and believe it or not. in fact, i'm pretty sure the canine unit's having a card game later on tonight. we could join in. tag team a little. show 'em how it's done."

"...There's not going to be any betting is there?"

"what? no! no, of course not-"

"Uncle Sans."

The skeleton placed a hand on his chest, right over his soul, with the fingers wound in a strange pattern. "sentry's honor. tori put an end to the gambling a long time ago. this game's on the up and up too, so no worries. just a bunch of good ol' sentries playing a good ol' game of cards, just like we used to at grillby's. just minus the gold coins and drinks and the sound of drunk bunny murmuring in the corner. come on, kiddo, whaddaya say?"

Frisk glanced down at her feet, considering. "That...would be nice," she admitted carefully. "Really nice."

A lot better than spending her last few hours in a boring meeting. Sure, she wouldn't get to be with the others - Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, Alphys, and, of course, Papyrus - but at least she'd feel more relaxed. Sans was a good friend, and Chara had been extra hard on him the last few genocides. The demon seemed to derive a fierce amount of pleasure in hurting him. Deeply. Irreparably. Even when they had a whole cast to choose from, they always liked bringing Sans down to bare desperation the most. They said it was because he was so hard to break. Because, when he did break, he was the most dangerous obstacle Chara could face, Frisk along with them. He was a glass cannon, weak defense, one HP; but when it came to offense, if someone could push him that far, his powers and strength of magic were unequaled. And yet, he always lost in the end. Red slash through his ribs, heaving for breath as he slowly faded away and gave in to his fate.

Frisk shuddered, reaching out to fish Sans's hand from his nearest pocket and entwining her fingers with his. She owed it to him to spend a little time building their friendship. Who knew when they would be able to do so again.

The human child smiled when she felt Sans's fingers tighten gently around her own. "You're going to have to try and convince Mom, you know that, right?" she warned with a smile, giving in.

"mmh. you just leave it to me. now, what do ya say we ditch this walking shtick." He adjusted his hold on her hand, to something a little firmer. "we've got a lot of lost time to make up for. shortcut?"

"Yes, please."

"alright. hang on tight, kid."

Frisk took his advice with practiced obedience. She knew how disorienting a 'shortcut' could be, and had no wish to experience one without Sans's steady presence close at hand. Her fingers tightened their hold minutely, the child leeching the odd, always unexpected warmth of her friend's hand.

They didn't even come to a complete stop. Sans slowed their walk, feet changing stride, though only just a little, as though he were trying to avoid running too quickly into something only he could see. A fraction of a second later, Frisk felt the pleasant thrum of magic surround them, climbing higher and higher as it swelled from Sans's soul.

Humans typically couldn't sense monster magic in its dormant state, too un-attuned to its presence and use to recognize the feeling of strength and compassion it held. In its  _active_  state, however, such as when a monster readied an attack or initiated some sort of magic-related task, whatever life-beat thrummed through their souls could easily be detected, even by the most inexperienced of humanity. It was a warm, tingling sensation, one that encouraged one's breath to hitch and their heart to pound. It was like the excitement of Christmas morning, New year's Eve, and a week of birthdays all wrapped up in a single, enthralling moment, exuding from a monster's core; the very essence of who and what they were.

It was...beautiful.

The most genuine kind of beautiful Frisk had ever known.

Sans's magic tended to be quieter than most, or so Papyrus had once described to Frisk, though just what that meant Frisk couldn't be sure. He was weak, compared to most monsters, his 'soulbeat' slow and almost silent, so Frisk understood from what the others had told her. It was why Sans could sneak up on people so undetected, even of his own kind; they could never sense him coming. Frisk couldn't actually feel the difference herself, but there was always something missing from Sans that she felt the other monsters had. A sort of static thrum, barely there. Maybe she was just more sensitive than most other humans. But when Sans drew on the full potential of his magic, to cast an attack or teleport, Frisk was always awed by the pure energy he expended. She  _could_  feel that. She could stand in both reverence and fear of him. His magic, when awakened, was strong, humming through all her bones as keenly as it must have flowed through his own; wave after wave of energy, winding tighter and tighter, faster and faster, until, with a practiced little half-skip twist, he was pulling her in through a 'shortcut', hand entwined with hers.

Darkness.

Void-like nothingness.

Cold and hostile.

Cruel.

Frisk didn't know what the In-Between world Sans used as a highway between space was called, but it was a strange, empty, substance-less place. It was utter blackness, so thick and suffocating that Frisk never allowed herself to breathe within its space, for fear of that inky black getting inside her. It was as though she were under water, or deep within a star-less heaven. It was a place she would never want to be stuck in for too long. Empty though it was, it always made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. That same unsettling feeling that one gets when one is being watched always filled her, slow, and leering. It made her feel a little afraid, though she never remembered how afraid until she was already passing through. It was as though that presence, that hidden eye that watched her, was only within her reach to recall when she was  _in_  the In-Between. The minute she came out the other side, she would forget...until next she passed through the darkness.

But, even in that small eternity, she could feel Sans's hand wrapped tightly around hers; a firm grip that promised that he would never let her go. His fingers were thin, but sturdy. His magic was the only thing she could feel, and it buoyed her within the darkness, like a life raft; a saving grace. Sans was the barrier between the darkness and herself, a warm, smooth lifeline of bone, and Frisk held on in return just as desperately.

And then, in a blink, before Frisk could even truly consider anything about the void or just what it was, they were being thrust out the other side. Frisk felt her stomach lurch, the ground hitting the soles of her feet as she skidded from the void into reality.


	2. To Give Us Lesser Things

The shortcut was rougher than usual. 

Or, well, no rougher than they had been  _lately_ , but certainly rougher than they  _used_  to be. It was something about the Surface, Sans had come to realize; something about its accessibility. All Sans's life he had teleported within the confines of the mountain that had held his people prisoner, with no way to even  _sense_  that which lay beyond the Barrier. Even from one end to the other, the Underground had been relatively small. He had never had to worry about anything more than that designated area while teleporting, and the ebbs and flows of the voidal network had always been surprisingly easy to navigate within the Underground, cut off from the rest of the world as they had been. But now, on the Surface, there were literally thousands of miles to contend with. When he jumped, they stretched out all around him, endless, border-less; thousands of threads, paths, and tears to fall through, and that was  _sort of-kind of-terrifying_. One misstep and he'd end up stars  _knew_  where; and that only if there wasn't even some sort of range restriction to the power of his teleportation. What if he jumped too far and he ended up straining his magic? What if he pushed himself beyond the area cap he had always maintained - been  _forced_  to maintain - and discovered it was dangerous?

He only had one HP. That didn't really give him much of a margin for error or experimentation. He was a curious guy, sure, but not quite _that_ curious. At least not yet. Not until he had done a few more test runs first. Some calculations. Sans wasn't really all that keen on the concept of exploring those possibilities blind. That was the sort of reckless, foolhardy behavior he had fallen into when he was younger, little more than a child. And that...

That had never gotten him anywhere good.

Or, at least...he had a feeling it hadn't. Not that he could truly remember...

So he had played it safe. He had refrained from using any unfamiliar shortcuts the first month monsters were free, figuring that everything would probably reset anyway and he wouldn't have to deal with the little issue at all. But as a month came and went, and another one started, he had begun to wonder if maybe this was it. That  _this_  was their final happy ending. It wasn't the first time he had ever thought it, and it probably wouldn't be the last, but what could he say? He still had _some_ hope, however small, and it flared in his chest with every beat of his soul, weak but insistent. This might be the run where they'd all finally be free; _truly_ free. In which case he needed to stop mentally curling in on himself like a coward and start embracing facts.

One: they were on the Surface.

Two: time was still going forward, unimpeded.

Three: the kid was  _good_.

And four: he needed to start living his life as close to normal as he could, and that meant using his magic the way it was meant to be used, instead of holding it all inside and allowing it to build uncomfortably.

He had taken time to explore Ebott's forests by foot, all around the monster encampment, to familiarize himself with the various rifts in the area. Satisfied that he wouldn't end up phasing himself into a tree, he had then begun to make small, experimental jumps, testing the waters like a babybones learning to take his first steps. It had been frustratingly slow, even by his patient standards, and had resulted in more than one embarrassing moment, but eventually Sans had regained all but a small portion of his previous teleportation prowess. He could safely shortcut anywhere within the forest, or within the monster encampment, almost as if by second nature. Teleporting further than that was...Well. It was an experiment for a later date. The shortcuts were still pretty rough, and Sans wasn't willing to take the risk of blipping into existence in the middle of a crowded space, even if he technically believed he could pull it off without a hitch. _Could_ didn't mean he _should_. It was better to drop out just beyond the camp perimeter, and walk the rest of the way on foot. It was safer, and Sans was all about safety these days, especially when it came to the people he cared about, and keeping a certain human child happy and alive. If he was going to be taking shortcuts with Frisk in tow, he wasn't about to take any unnecessary risks.

Sans landed squarely on his feet on the ending side of his jump, as gracefully as if he had only been taking one step to another, not leaping through two voidal rifts. Frisk, however, nearly lurched forward onto her face, unaccustomed to sudden shifts in momentum and orientation like he was. It was only the hold Sans had on her shoulders and hand that kept her at least partially upright. Even then the skeleton staggered momentarily under the child's more solid weight, before regaining his balance, stopping her fall along with his own. Frisk was shaking, her knees knocking, and panting a little as she tried to catch her breath.

Sans ducked his head, chin close to his chest as he tried to catch a glimpse of Frisk's face. "whoa, there, bucko, ya alright? i didn't know that'd take so much out of you..."

Frisk gulped in air like a land-locked fish, the force of the jump leaving her looking lightheaded and dizzy. Her light brown eyes listed a bit, like she was trying to figure out what end was up. She extricated herself from Sans's gentle hold and lowered her head to her hands with a groan, rubbing like it ached. She didn't look hurt, just a little shaken.

"I...I-I don't remember your shortcuts feeling...quite like that before," she breathed through her fingers.

Sans winced, feeling guilty. He released her, but his hands remained raised, ready to assist should she need it. "uh, eh heh...yeah. surface 'cuts tend to be a little wilder than the ones back underground. even i find them sorta jarring sometimes. took me weeks to get used to it. though,  that one was a bit of a doozy. i shoulda given you more of a heads up." He treated her to a sheepish grin, even though she couldn't see it from her position, patting her shoulder awkwardly as she continued to catch her breath. "sorry about that, kiddo."

"I-It's...okay...It's not your fault..."

"you don't feel sick, do ya?"

That would just be his luck, too. He'd barely met up with the child twenty minutes ago and he had already freaked her out twice. Or maybe he was just being extra sensitive. Paranoia had been eating away at his nerves lately, the kind that always came with resets that ran a little too long. It was hard, knowing that at any moment his life could be upended and sent back to square one, and not knowing the when or how was murder. It set him on edge. He wasn't at the top of his game, at all. That was probably partially to blame for their rough ride, but he wasn't about to say anything about _that_. 

Frisk shook her head. "Just a...little dizzy...but not too bad. Felt like being...tossed around in a dark, cold sack."

"nothing hurts, though, right?"

"No. Just a bit of a headache, but I think that's...from earlier. Really just feels like the weird heavy feeling after a brain freeze..."

Sans sighed in relief. The Void was not something to be trifled with, and while Sans was, by far, more of a professional on the subject of space-time travel compared to some, he was far from understanding its full complexity, or its potential dangers.

"good. or, well, i mean, not _good_ about the headache; that kinda sucks, but...uh, okay. you wanna sit down or something? i'd hate you to keel over and get more banged up then you've already-"

"No...No, I'm okay." She took a deep breath, standing up a little straighter and blinking away the remaining discomfort. "It's already starting to clear."

"heh, you had me worried there for a second. no way your mom'd let me watch you tonight if i can't even keep you safe in transit." He chuckled humorlessly. "diving off rocks, stumbling through shortcuts...i think we've had more than our share of excitement for tonight without a trip to the clinic."

Frisk uncovered her face, sending Sans a quick glance. "Aren't you feeling affected at all?"

"nah. it's easier on the one driving."

"Ha! Well, lucky you." Frisk flashed him a playful smile.

Man, human children bounced back awful quick. Or maybe it was just Frisk in particular. She  _was_  the most determined human around after all.

"kid, you got no idea." He held out a hand, shoving the other in his pocket. "you think you can walk, or do i gotta carry you?"

Frisk huffed, amused. "There's no way that's happening. I'm almost your height."

"there's always magic..."

"No." Frisk frowned. The last of her discomfort was shed in a moment, the child straightening up the rest of the way to wiggle a warning finger inches from the bridge of his nasal cavity. "You've used enough magic for today, Sans," she chided. "Between catching me and taking a shortcut...Keep it up, and  _you're_  the one who's going to end up at the clinic. You and I both know what happened the last time you overdid things."

Sans remembered, with no small amount of embarrassment. It had been during his experimenting stage, when he was still working out his shortcuts on the Surface. He'd...gotten a little to zealous. Papyrus had been stunned, they all had been, by his somewhat uncharacteristic activity. He had, of course, ended up depleting his magic reserves - how monsters stored extra energy in their bodies until it was needed. Sans, despite his many faults and frailties, had an impressive store of magic, but even that had limits.

He had ended up almost collapsing during mealtime one night, only just lucky enough not to have tumbled over into a nearby bonfire. Papyrus and Toriel had fawned over him for days. Alphys had started bugging him about letting her do some scans, something that he had, amazingly, managed to evade thus far. There were a number of reasons why Sans didn't want her poking around his stats, other than that which was easily seen within a common CHECK. Reasons that he wasn't willing to deal with at present. Or, if possible, ever.

The incident had also resulted in Undyne finding out he only had one HP, something he had managed to keep a secret since she had first employed him as a sentry.

She had...not been happy about that.

"fair enough." Sans gave the fingers of his still extended hand a little wiggle, and Frisk remained as she was for a moment longer, to ensure he had taken her warning seriously, before gently slipping her own smaller fingers into his with a smile.

"You're really something. You know that?"

"right back at you, kid. now, let's head back to camp. before your mom sends undyne after us."

A mock shiver ran up Frisk's spine, and Sans gave a hearty laugh. 

Sans's teleport had dropped them just outside the fringes of Ebott's forest, still a few moments walk from the beginning of the monster encampment but close enough that the glow of campfires and lanterns was clearly visible through the trees. The night around them was chilly and blue, crickets chirps and in the distance an owl hooted low and mellow. It had taken a while to get used to so much sound, so much _life_. A lot of monsters had found it almost impossible to sleep on the Surface at first, overwhelmed by the world and all its insect and critter crowded glory. But, over time, they had all grown accustomed. The sounds that had once seemed too much, almost painful in their intensity, were now a soothing presence.

Hand in hand, Sans and Frisk picked their way over the trampled grass fields leading toward camp, Sans always mindful of the occasional brier patch or thistles. They weren't much of a danger to the calcified hardness of his own legs, but Frisk's, while covered by her pants, where far more tender. The kid was a pretty tough cookie, but tempting fate wasn't really Sans's style, and Toriel would look to him for answers should Frisk show up back in camp, torn up by nature's worst. That was more Undyne's thing.

Ahead of them stretched the mottled landscape of blue shadows and hazy lantern-lit tents. There were hundreds of them, staked to the ground and illuminated from within, shining brilliantly in the dark, all donated by Ebott's Emergency Relief Charity. The monsters really could have used more, but Sans imagined it was difficult to supply so many individuals with shelter, food, and other necessities, so they really couldn't complain. Large families were given tents of their own, and those who were single, or families of a smaller size, were grouped with others of a similar nature. Sans and Papyrus, for example, shared a tent with a number of the other Snowdin residents. It ensured that no space was wasted, and housing monsters together who were already familiar with each other cut down on disputes and other mishaps. Each tent could hold up to ten monsters, depending on their size and needs, creating a tight knit community network. For some, it wasn't much of a change. New Home had been getting particularly crowded toward the date of their freedom, so city dwellers were right at home. But monsters like Sans, who were used to the slow going, easy atmosphere of the Underground's fringes, found the sudden close quarters less comfortable. Privacy was pretty nonexistent; everyone knew everyone else's business. And for someone like Sans, who had things he preferred not to see the light of day, that was a big hang up.

Sans surveyed the sight with a bemused shake of his head. "heh. would you look at that. place is lit up like a mettaton birthday cake."

Frisk smiled, giving their combined hands a little swing. "I think it looks pretty," she said, before her face fell slightly. Sans could almost feel the joy die within her, dragging his soul with it. "Do you think we'll ever be allowed to live in the city? Not that I don't like living out here in the forest. It's like camping! But..."

Frisk's eyes trailed off into the distance, to the shimmering silhouette of the bustling human city in the distance, its skyscrapers reaching far above the far stretching treeline. Sans followed her gaze, a familiar, longing ache wracking his soul.

"It's going to get cold soon," Frisk pointed out. The tents aren't going to be enough, especially for the Hotland monsters."

Sans sighed. It was an issue he had pondered himself, time and time again. And not all in that particular run either. A timeline, as of yet, had never gone on long enough that they had truly made it into the city. Why that was the case, Sans didn't have a clue. Impatience on the kid's part, maybe? She couldn't wait, so she always reset before they could make a proper home? It was a question that bugged him each and every pacifist run, but Sans never dared to ask. He had to play his part. He couldn't let Frisk know that he remembered. His instincts, and a large chunk of hazy experience, told Sans that doing so would be a grave mistake on his part. The weed had found out once, long ago, so many resets in the past it all sort of blurred together. But Sans remembered that it had been bad - _really_ bad - that Flowey had figured it out.

"well, these kinds of things take time, kiddo. there's a lot involved, and we  _are_  a rather large number of monsters. it's not just the people of ebott that have to get used to the idea, it's the whole world." He considered. "i...don't think we're going to be getting in before winter comes, honestly. but i wouldn't worry. the humans haven't let us succumb to the elements yet, and i doubt they've worked this hard to help us just to let us fade away come snowfall. they'd have to be real _flakes_ to do that."

Frisk laughed, but it sounded a little strained. "But it's been two whole months," she bemoaned.

"two months really isn't that long a time, kiddo."

Frisk pouted. "To me it is." She fell silent for a moment, her gaze shifting down to watch her own feet as they waded through the semi-tall grass. "...Sans?"

"still here. what's up?"

"...Am I a bad person?"

Sans jolted, looking down at the child clutching his fingers, so tight now it almost, _almost_ hurt.

"what?...why would you ask that?"

His brain tried to tango with his ethics, the Judge screaming guiltyguiltyGUILTY in his skull. But no. Here, the kid was innocent. They had traversed the whole Underground without hurting a single soul. Here they hadn't killed; here they hadn't chosen the wrong path. Sans couldn't...He couldn't judge a person for something that had technically never happened. Not here. Not now. No matter how much he wanted to.

Frisk shrugged. "I don't know. I was just...wondering. What you thought of me."

"i...think you're a good kid." For some reason that didn't seem to be what Frisk wanted to hear. Her hold went limper in Sans's hand, her eyes darting to the side. Sans frowned, then turned to stare in the opposite direction. "...is there a reason i should think differently?"

"No." Frisk was quick to answer. "No, I just...wanted to know."

"well, you heard that speech i gave ya in the hall, didn't you?"

She nodded.

"well, then, there you go. you gained love, not LOVE. you saved us all. that's not the mark of a bad person."

Not this run. Not in the here and now.

But that could change.

That could change any minute.

Frisk kicked at a crinkly flower as they slowly moved forward, one turned crispy and autumn brown. "I guess not."

Sans could see in her eyes a distant disappointment, the kind that might make her want to try again. Might make her want to abandon this timeline altogether and start from scratch. It was that more than anything that forced the words out through his teeth with perhaps a bit more panic than he intended.

"and if you're worried about the job you're doing as ambassador, well, chin up, bucko. you're a _great_ ambassador. the greatest of great. so don't get ideas in your head that you aren't, okay? because you are."

The kid laughed. "Is this the kinds of pep talks that made the Great Papyrus?"

The skeleton smirked, trying to hide the shakiness behind his smile. "maybe. you could be getting some real quality advice here." Sans shrugged. "but as to when they're gonna let us into the city, who knows. my experience is that government always takes its time. they like to look at things from a bazillion angles, bide their time and make up big, fancy words. we're dealing with _multiple_ governments, so we can probably multiply that by, what, fifty? a hundred?" He winked. "yeah, it could take two more months at this rate. or longer. years more likely. but we've got a lot of good guys on our side, so here's hoping."

What else could he say? Frisk wasn't stupid. Lying to her would only make her suspicious. And Sans's nerves really couldn't handle that right now.

"Like Mr. Hills?" Frisk asked.

The large, dark skinned fellow came to mind. An activist, one who had taken up the monsters' cause. Without Dryson Hill's help, monsters might not have even made it out of the caves.

"exactly. so, don't you worry your head about any of that. it'll happen. one way or another."

That would be up to Frisk in the end though, wouldn't it? Was she testing him? Taunting him? Her voice and her expression said no, but Sans couldn't really judge the kid anymore. Not by appearance. She was almost like two individual people, merged into one; the kind and merciful child, and the murderer. He had to fight the urge to slip his hand from Frisk's. It was so easy to love the pacifist, and hate and fear the psychopath. Sans found himself unable to distinguish between the two sometimes, afraid that the kind, loving smile was only a sheath wherein lay a dangerous, double edged dagger. But he had to pretend. Keep the kid happy. Maybe, just maybe, he could appease both halves of the child next to him, and gain their world a little peace.

Sans shook himself from his thoughts, continuing. "might just take a little patience. rome wasn't built in a day and all that, or so i hear. things'll get moving, and when they do we'll all be caught up in the moment, you'll see. just gotta keep truck'n. the journey's half the fun, am i right?"

"...Yeah. I guess."

Sans couldn't be sure, but he thought Frisk looked even more discouraged by his words, and it did nothing for Sans's paranoia. A deep dread settled in the monster's chest, resets worth of calloused fractures in his soul and a wall of apathy dampening any emotion he might feel to that affect. His mind automatically sank into a state of acceptance, exhausted and aching. He hid it behind a lazy grin.

It was better to lay low.

Stick to the script.

Pretend.

Smile.

Roll with the punches.

Fight until he couldn't.

It was literally all he could do.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

Sans hid his mental anguish with all the skill of a seasoned actor. "either way, i imagine they'll be- _whoa!"_

The skeleton lurched back, dragging Frisk with him by her shoulders, and just in time too. The attack seemed to come out of nowhere, the distinctive hum of magic and a blue haze the only giveaway. Thankfully, despite his lazy reputation, Sans had fast reflexes and was quick on his feet. He dodged a second attack, sweeping Frisk along with him as he efficiently side-stepped, now keeping her behind him and out of harm's way. For a single, paralyzing moment, Sans's mind lied to him. It told him he had been too slow. The tingling sensation of the other monster's magic overpowered his own, resonating all through him like a wave of pins and needles. But the glowing dagger construct ended up missing them by inches, landing with a thud and burying itself deep into a nearby tree where it buzzed and sparked in agitation. Frisk's hands clutched at the loose fabric at the back of his jacket, hiding, allowing Sans to stand between her and the threat. A somewhat fruitless venture, seeing as it would only take one direct hit to end him, but, again, he had to remember Frisk was a child. It was...hard to take into consideration sometimes, knowing what he knew.

Figuring that they might not get so lucky with the next attack, Sans was quick to raise his voice, a rarity, trying to catch the other monster's attention. If it was who he thought it was, the quicker he identified himself and Frisk, the better.

"hey! whoa there, buddy! doggo! doggo, it's just us! stand down!"

A form half hidden in the shadows to their right gave a low, gravelly growl. Blue magic, sharp and crackling, illuminated the side of the monster's face, giving a rather menacing profile. The canine in question paused, hackles still raised as he squinted into the darkness, his white furred brows knitted low over his dark, milky eyes. He didn't dispel his new readied attack, beady gaze ping-ponging back and forth searchingly.

"Who's 'us'?" he gruffed, eyes narrowed, suspicious of all that moved, as well as all that didn't. "You're going to have to be a little more articulate, fella, if you wanna get by me and into this camp!"

Sans took a careful step forward, slow and measured, with Frisk still clinging to the back of his jacket. He kept his movements careful and submissive, as none-threatening as possible. "heh. 'fella', huh? really, man? i knew your eyes were half gone, but i didn't figure you were losing your hearing too. you mean to tell me you've heard this voice every day for the past who-knows-how-many-years, and you don't recognize it? sheesh, man, i'm really hurt here."

A pause, and then a tentative, "...Sans?"

"the one and only. an' the kid's with me too."

"...Frisk?"

"yup," Sans replied, response lilting, more a yip than anything else. A mimic of the tones he had heard the Canine Unit use with each other. Encouraging. Lighthearted. "she's also the one and only. can't get any more original than us."

He took another careful step forward, hand held out, palm up, as a symbol of peace, like one might do for any dog-like creature. Living in Snowdin, and having known most of the Canine Unit since he was fairly young, Sans was familiar with their quirks and mannerisms. Doggo's ears were plastered back against his skull, teeth bared in obvious threat. For a dog, he had very bad eye sight, a defect he'd apparently had since he was a pup, if Sans's memory served him correctly. In fact, it was a wonder Doggo had made it as a sentry in Snowdin at all, and even more so now, as a perimeter guard on the Surface. He was well meaning, of course, and was very good with both his magic and his blades, but what good was that if he couldn't see anything beyond his own nose most of the time?

Then again, who was Sans to judge? He was hardly any more qualified.

The canine inched forward, weapon humming, still wary but posture a little less tense. "What are the two of you doing out here?"

Sans shrugged. "oh, you know. a bit of chatting here, a bit of dodging attacks there. nothing much, really. you?"

There was a long, pregnant pause, wherein they all just stood there in the night, blinking into the semi-darkness, and then Doggo's magic dispersed in a shower of glittering pixels as the dog gave a low chuckle.

"Huh. Never could get a straight answer out of you, Sans. Could never tell if you were doing it on purpose, or were just too lazy to give a damn." He stepped closer, nose twitching, sniffing the air. Without the glow of his magic, he seemed far less frightening, his lips back to covering the pink of his gums.

Sans took yet another step forward with a relieved breath, urging Frisk to follow. 

"s'hard standard to live up to, i know," the skeleton joked.

His tone was cheerful and carefree, but inside he was truthfully pretty shaken. His soul was still pulsing unsteadily in his chest, stuttering anxiously after that near miss. He had already been feeling on edge; a jump scare had been the last thing he had needed. Thankfully, he knew his soul pulse would be too soft for Doggo to sense.

"but somebody's got to be a pain in the tail, so it might as well be me. i do my best."

"I'm sure you do."

Doggo closed the distance between them, moving down to all fours and lifting a single paw as he leaned forward, his quivering snout hovering just over the front of Sans's shirt. Sans came to a halt and remained perfectly still, letting himself be sniffed, even though it was a little awkward and made Sans feel uncomfortably vulnerable. But, for Doggo at least, along with all the other canines, this was customary. To flinch back or refuse would be like slapping away the hand of someone helping you to your feet after a nasty fall. Sans widened his grin, his hands clenched in his pockets as the other's nose moved upward toward his clavicle. It tickled.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Doggo whined, worried. "Those attacks, they might have..."

He trailed off, but Sans already knew what he had been about to say, and winced. Word of his low HP had gotten around. Unfortunately. It was funny, but Sans never would have pinned Undyne as the gossipy type. Then again, it wasn't like he knew her all that well. She was just Papyrus's best friend and Sans's boss. Even through all the resets they had never really grown...close. Still. He was sure she had his best interests at heart, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel at least a little bit betrayed.

Sans gave a lopsided smile. "don't worry about it, buddy. no harm, no foul. see? not a speck of dust on me. didn't get so much as a scratch, an' neither did the kid. we're all good."

"Mm, still." Doggo didn't look convinced. "I could...CHECK you? I mean, if you are alright with it. Just to...make sure?"

Sans gave a half chuckle. "uh, nah, i'm fine. believe me, if you had injured me, you'd know," he replied. Morbid, but true.

Doggo blanched. "Ah, man, I'm sorry about the attacks. You're magic is just so dang _quiet_." 

Satisfied that Sans wasn't dusting at least, the dog monster stood back up on his hind legs, leaving Sans to gather the remains of his personal space. Doggo was tall; not as tall as some, but certainly taller than Sans and Frisk, though only by about a head and a half. He beamed at them, his tail wagging in a slow rhythm from side to side.

"eh, yeah." Sans rubbed the back of his neck. "sorry about that, pal, but it can't really be helped."

"...I know." Doggo craned his neck a bit to the side, catching the glimpse of blue and pink sweater. "Frisk?"

At her name, Frisk moved slowly out from behind Sans and gave the dog a shy little wave. She had been startled by the initial attack, Sans was sure, but she held no fear of the canine himself. She beamed up at him with all the kindness and trust in the world.

"Hello, Doggo!"

"Hey there, pup. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"No, it's okay. Sans and I should have remembered you were on duty tonight."

"Mmh." Doggo itched his elbow sheepishly. "Technically, this isn't my shift."

Sans smirked. "who conned you into their guard duty slot this time?"

The dog sent the skeleton a half-hearted glare. "I wasn't conned! We made a deal."

"and that deal was...?"

Doggo slumped. "Dogamy traded me his shift for his last pack of biscuits."

Some of the smugness drained from Sans's posture. "...ah. gotchya." Those weren't ordinary biscuits. Not the kind Frisk would be familiar with. "you've run out, huh?"

The canine nodded sadly. "About a week ago. Started getting the jitters. Needed them pretty bad."

"ah."

"Yeah."

Sans shrugged. "then i guess it wasn't the worst con out there."

"It wasn't a c-"

"when's your shift end?"

"Huh?"

"when do you switch out?"

"Oh, uh...sometime, like, an hour ago?"

"an' no one's come to relieve you?"

"Not a soul. Greater was supposed to relieve me, but I haven't seen him since last meal."

Sans frowned. "huh. well, tell you what. i'll see if i can find undyne and let her know you're still out here. maybe she can get a hold of greater or send someone in his stead. sound good?"

Doggo's eyes lit up with genuine gratitude. "Ah, man, you don't gotta do that."

"it's no problem. m'bound to bump into the ol' fishbreath anyway." Doggo and Frisk chuckled. "besides, m'sure greater just forgot. you know how he is."

"Yeah." Doggo cast a glance over his shoulder, back toward camp. "Actually, to tell you the truth, I think something's up back in camp."

That got Sans's attention. He stiffened, a little more alert. "oh?" Before it clicked and his shoulders relaxed. "mary's here."

Doggo scratched the side of his neck, his head craning to the side, like he enjoyed the feeling.

"That's what I'm thinking. It's the only thing that fits. Thought I heard something going on a little while ago. Lots of shouting and whooping and scampering about. Happy noises, nothing bad. Probably means she arrived on the far east side, like usual. Can't tell for sure, I can't see camp from here, other than the lanterns, but it's been pretty quiet for the last fifteen minutes or so. Didn't hear any alarms being given, so nothing bad's happened. Couldn't be anyone _but_ Mary."

"sounds about right." Sans started forward, holding a hand out behind him. "okay, thanks, buddy. come on, kid." Frisk's hand slipped back into his before he even finished speaking. "take it easy, doggo, and see ya in a few."

"I hope so," the canine huffed. He gave Frisk a toothy smile and an awkward wave. "Bye, pup."

Frisk smiled warmly. "Bye!"

They left the guard to his post, treading onward along the grasses until they made their way into camp, passing into the first line of tents without a sound. Doggo had been right; it was like a ghost town, no monster in sight. Bowls of stew, baskets of half folded laundry, and various other activity related items lay strewn about, left unattended in a hurry. It would have been unsettling, and perhaps an indication of something being wrong, if it wasn't something that happened on a regular basis.

One day out of the week, usually on a Thursday or Friday, the Monster Charity Association sent in someone with enough supplies and necessities to last the monsters for another seven or eight days. Food, clothing on occasion, clean drinking water despite the nearby streams, matches, blankets, extra shoes for those who could fit into them, and a variety of other things. It all depended on what was donated to the charity. There was a number of volunteers from the association - Billy Ceen, Chelsea McMire, Ed Barsol - all very kind and perfectly friendly, but the one the monsters loved the most by far was Mary Nerton.

She was a young girl, in her late teens and just beginning her college education. Her studies focused mainly on cultural and social anthropology, a field that had apparently spiked since the arrival of monsterkind on the Surface. Mary was painfully shy; shy and yet fearless in her own way, if that made any sense. She was soft spoken and tended to blush a good deal, but she had no problem with standing up for monster principles or taking a stand when it came to making sure the monsters got what they needed on time and in bulk, even if that meant speaking up to her superiors. She was the monsters' most frequent visitor among the volunteers, mostly because she loved her work so much, and got along with everyone so well that her bosses tended to vote her as the 'delivery girl' more often than not. The other volunteers weren't discouraged or bitter by that fact, and everyone was happy with how things had worked out. How she pulled off one trip to the base of Mt Ebott a week, along with her double major, was beyond Sans's comprehension. She was a hard worker, to be sure, and had a good and passionate soul.

And so, every week, Mary would show up with her dirty, old, light blue pickup truck, loaded to overflowing with whatever donations had been collected.

She was a nice kid. Sans liked her a lot.

"...Sans?"

"mh?" Frisk's small voice brought Sans out of his thoughts. They were now well out of Doggo's range of hearing, something that Frisk quickly took advantage of.

"What did Doggo mean? About having jitters?"

Sans winced. He considered changing the subject, but then gave in, realizing it wasn't worth the effort. Frisk was nine years old, for stars' sake. She deserved a legitimate answer.

"jitters...it's another word for shaking. feeling like you can't sit still. on edge."

Frisk frowned. "What would that have to do with biscuits?"

Man, this kid didn't miss a thing. "the biscuits doggo was referring to aren't the kind you eat."

The child fell silent a moment, before giving a firm nod. "Oh."

"yeah."

"You mean those weird smelling things he smokes."

"yup."

Frisk shifted her fingers in Sans's grip, contemplating. "Maybe we should tell Undyne. If Doggo is feeling...jitters-"

"jittery."

"...Jittery...If he's feeling jittery, maybe he shouldn't be on guard duty."

"why not?"

Frisk sent him a look. "What do you mean, 'why not'?! Sans, what if he had  _hit_ you?!"

Sans held back a rueful chuckle. "then you'd be talking to yourself right now. heh heh....eh." He deflated at Frisk mortified expression. "sorry. got it. not funny." He sighed. "well, he might be feel'n a little on edge, but he should be good for another week if dogamy traded him that pack of treats. no sense pulling a perfectly good perimeter guard from duty prematurely. the jitters'll leave him alone until he runs out again." Frisk looked confused, so he explained. "grown ups sometimes get into bad habits; habits that aren't necessarily the best for them, but that they do regardless. sometimes they're addictive, and hard to stop, and if you try they can leave you with the jitters if you break 'em off too suddenly."

Frisk looked up at him as they continued on through the quiet camp. Several rows down to their left, a bunny monster raced past, headed in the same direction as they were going. Too far away to call to, and too far away to recognize just who it was.

"How would you know?"

"what's that now?"

Frisk narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "How would you know that stopping bad habits can give you the jitters? Did you used to smoke?"

"me? nah. tried one of his biscuits once, 'cause he insisted. tasted pretty awful. besides, with no nervous system, it didn't really do me any good. just made my magic feel weird and shaky. reacted strangely. didn't like it." He smirked. "pap had a fit. said i smelled like smoke for three solid days after. made me wash my skull out with mouth wash and toothpaste. let me give you a word of advice, kiddo. don't get addicted to smoking. in fact, stay clear of it all together, alright? it's not worth it. nothing addictive is."

"Alright." Frisk frowned, a question obviously still squirming on the tip of her tongue. "But then how would you kn-"

"HUMAN FRISK! BROTHER!"

Both Sans and Frisk jolted at the loud, yet familiar voice, warmth and tired fondness blooming deep within the short skeleton's soul. They froze in their tracks, turning slightly to behold the lanky silhouette further down the row, one that was very quickly drawing nearer. Sans released a silent sigh of relief. The kid could be too curious sometimes; curious to a fault. And for someone like Sans, who harbored a number of deep, dark, rooted secrets he preferred to leave buried, that was something to be strictly wary of. Now thoroughly distracted by the tall approaching figure, Frisk's hand slipped out of Sans's own, allowing the skeleton to return his to its proper pocket. They stood side by side, empty tents around them and lanterns strung on ropes above their heads in a complicated network. It made for a calm, comfortable scene.

"hey, look who's come for us. we must have taken a  _little_  too long in getting back," Sans murmured lowly.

"A  _little_ , huh?" Frisk whispered back, play in her tone. She sent him a sympathetic glance. "You're in for it, you know."

"yeeeeeah..."

As far as common monsters went, Sans's brother Papyrus was quite tall and exceedingly slender. In fact, Sans barely made it above his brother's hip in height, despite being the older of the two. When angered, Papyrus could appear to be rather imposing, if you didn't know him personally. If you  _did_  know him, you knew there was nothing to fear, and that sharp-eyed expression lost some of its power. There was never a monster born with a purer soul. His kindness knew no bounds, his caring knew no borders, and his compassion and hope made him one of the strongest monsters Sans had ever known. Papyrus believed in people to a fault, often coming across as innocent or naive. Sans knew better. He had sheltered his brother from a lot, even he would admit that, and there were a lot of things Papyrus still didn't understand that maybe he should, but he was anything but naive. He was...

He was Sans's everything. And Sans would do  _anything_  for him, if it meant keeping him healthy and safe.

It seemed to take forever for Papyrus to reach them. Then again, the encampment was very large, and flat, making it easy to see long distance down the rows and rows of tents. The tall skeleton made a valiant attempt at keeping his apparent annoyance consistent, but Sans struggled to keep his grin under control, the sight of his brother striding so purposefully made comical by the long distance.

Finally, huffing a little, Papyrus stomped up, still clad in the battle-body armor Sans had once made for him all those years ago, on one of those rare days the younger skeleton brother had doubted his own greatness. Originally intended as a costume, it really wasn't meant to be worn as working armor - but that didn't stop Papyrus. The white chest plate was a little scuffed at this point, due to the intense level of exploring and adventuring it was forced to endure on a daily basis since their freedom, but Papyrus refused to part with it. Sans hoped that, eventually, someone would be able to talk Papyrus into wearing something else, just so that he blended in with the general population a little better. It would be nice to see him in something new and clean; something a little more everyday and normal. Something the humans wouldn't snicker at behind his back.

Of course, that was coming from a guy who had literally owned only one set of clothes for most of his life. Give or take a few hand-me-downs from Papyrus, during the short period of time the two brothers had been relatively the same height.

Papyrus glanced at Frisk, taking the child in with a relieved expression, before his gaze inevitably zeroed in on Sans. His hands found their way to being firmly planted on his hips, a scolding look in his sockets that Sans knew was reserved for him and him alone. It was a familiar expression, that mixed pot of annoyance, brotherly love, and worry. So much worry. Too much. Too much to be wasted on someone like Sans. Though Sans was sure Papyrus would strongly disagree.

Sans greeted his brother's glare the way he normally did.

He grinned.

"eh, eh heh. heeeeey, bro," he chuckled nervously. "what's up?"

Papyrus loomed over Sans as if  _he_  were a Judge, looking very stern and exasperated. His voice was as loud and boisterous as it always was, echoing all around them like he was being broadcasted all over camp.

"DO NOT 'WHAT'S UP' ME, BROTHER! YOU HAD ME AND LADY ASGORE WORRIED SICK!" He turned to Frisk in a flourish, the anger in his voice lowering to mere frustration as he addressed the child. "HE WAS SENT TO GO FIND YOU OVER AN HOUR AGO!"

Frisk treated Papyrus to a gentle smile, one of the ones that could have soothed a raging storm. "I'm sorry, Papyrus. It's all my fault. I wandered off and lost track of the time. I couldn't have been easy to find, and I was being very quiet. He did a good job getting me back as quick as he could, I promise. Please, don't be mad at Sans." She batted her eyelashes, for good measure, skirting the edge between cute and just plain flirty.

Sans couldn't have asked for a better defense.

Papyrus had harbored a soft spot for Frisk since that alleged 'first date' back in Snowdin. Platonic of course, so his brother had insisted emphatically on more than one occasion.

The tall skeleton's shoulders slumped, cheeks warming, completely disarmed. "O-Oh...W-Well..." He cleared his throat, trying to regain his previous wrathful intentions, and failing miserably. It was obvious that he had already forgiven Sans, and then some. The dressing down was purely out of habit; because it was expected and familiar. "IF YOU ARE CERTAIN HE DID HIS BEST, HUMAN FRISK, THAN I SHALL....TAKE YOUR WORD FOR IT!" He whipped his head around to give Sans a final glare. "BUT THAT IS THE LAST TIME I VOLUNTEER YOU FOR HUMAN-FRISK-FINDING DUTY!"

Sans grinned wider. "sounds fair. m'i forgiven?"

The taller deflated further, something softer making its way into his expression. "YOU ARE FORGIVEN. BY ME AT LEAST. I CANNOT SPEAK ON LADY ASGORE'S BEHALF."

The shorter winced. "gotchya...is mary here?"

"SHE IS!" All that remained of his anger died away from Papyrus's posture and expression, replaced by joy and excitement. "SHE ARRIVED A SHORT TIME BACK, JUST AFTER YOU LEFT, IN FACT! AND SANS!" The lanky skeleton practically jigged in place, elbows inward and fists pounding together in glee. "SHE HAS BROUGHT HER TRUCK! THE 1958 CHEVY CAMEO CARRIER ONCE AGAIN!"

"what was that?"

"I SAID-"

"sorry, bro. i can't seem to hear you.  _car_  to speak up?"

Papyrus's face was unreadable. Frisk hid a snort of laughter behind her hand. Both reactions only encouraged Sans further.

"SA-"

"eh, it's okay, i'll figure it out. gotta keep  _truck_ 'n, am i right?"

"SANS!"

"because i  _wheel_ ly think i could-"

"OH MY GOD, YOU ARE  _UN-_ FORGIVEN!"

Papyrus swooped down like an avenging angel, tucking his hands beneath Sans's arms and lifting him easily up to his level, lurching Frisk's hand from Sans's own. It was a little disorienting, but by now Sans was used to it. Papyrus gave the older a reproving look, before wordlessly settling Sans on his hip, gently despite his frustrations. The smaller skeleton latched on like a friendly koala, while Papyrus held his free hand out to Frisk.

"COME NOW! WE NEED TO GET YOU BOTH TO THE OTHERS!"

Frisk took hold without hesitation, smiling bright as day.

* * *

The closer they got to the far east side of the monster encampment, the more crowded with monsters it became. At first, it was just a few stragglers, or those on their way back who had already gotten their fill of the excitement. Then they ran into small groups of individuals, rings of monsters conversing enthusiastically about this and that. The crowd of monsters grew denser and denser, until Papyrus was scooting and wiggling his way along, apologies and loud 'pardon me's spilling from him like liquid.

Frisk herself felt a little uneasy. She had never cared much for crowds, and even though she knew she was among friends, the shear number of shuffling, ambling bodies made her anxious. A glance up at Sans's stiff posture as he clung to Papyrus's shoulder told her he was of a similar opinion, though she was sure he'd never admit it.

Nearly every monster from the Underground was present, packed thickly into the several acre clearing that branched off from the encampment fields, better known as the far east side of camp. Away from the tents, it was typically used as a laundry and cooking area, though once every week it was cleared up for Mary's - or whoever's - arrival. An old dirt road, tan with clay and sporting many ruts and potholes, stretched from the far corner all the way to Ebott City, a fair distance to the south-east. Somewhere along the way the dirt turned to asphalt, when it met up with some of the main roadways leading to and from the city.

It was by this road that Mary and the other volunteers always came.

Frisk saw many monsters she knew as she was tugged along by Papyrus's gentle but persistent hand. Fire elementals, Grillby among them, were the easiest to spot in the semi-darkness, flames burning brilliant colors of yellow, red, and in some cases green. Frisk saw bear monsters, lizard monsters, bunny monsters, and monsters that weren't like anything the Surface had to offer. She saw whimsuns and froggits, So Sorry, and Tsunderplane; she even spotted Gerson a little ways to their right, sitting on a tree stump and whittling away at some twig he had found. It was like a giant family picnic, bustling and noisy, filled with laughter and shouting.

It was a little overwhelming to be honest, but before it could truly become too much to stand Papyrus broke them out of the crowd and out into a roped off section of the clearing. Undyne and her guards, of which Papyrus was now one, always set up a crowd-free zone by the roadside, to keep Mary and the other volunteers from being overrun by over-enthused 'fans'. It was something they had learned from experience, from that one time Mary had come, and everyone had gotten just a  _little_  too excited.

Now, sight unimpeded by the towering forms of monsters all around her, Frisk spotted the familiar blue pickup truck that belonged to Mary Nerton. Even in the half-light, she could see it's rounded edges, afflicted by large patches of rust, and sporting a few suspicious looking dents. Mary claimed the truck had belonged to her uncle, and that it was his fault it was in such bad shape. It was an antique, but so badly messed up it was worth pretty much nothing, other than the use Mary got out of it weekly. Her uncle had given it to her for free, when she had asked for a vehicle to use as transport for the MCA, and while it smelled sort of strange inside, and looked like it had survived at least two world wars, Mary said it was in excellent working condition. By 'excellent' she meant it only took a few kicks to the engine to get it started, and that was on a good day.

Frisk could tell the truck meant a lot to Mary, even if it was a bit of a wreck.

The young woman herself was now plainly in view, standing on the back of her truck's shallow bed and helping to hand down boxes of supplies to members of the Canine Unit and a few others who had volunteered to help. She was a kind person, pretty too, or at least Frisk thought so. Maybe not that super star, model look that the magazines portrayed women as, but her personality and gentle nature made her beautiful in her own way. Sans had told Frisk that Mary was pretty in that she had a pretty soul. Green; a soul of kindness. The other monsters could obviously sense it, but Sans, being a Judge, could feel it a little more clearly. He said it was a strong soul, one almost as vibrant as Frisk's, just of a different trait. A good soul, to monsters, was more beautiful and valued than anyone's outward appearance could ever be, and Frisk had come to share their sentiment.

Physically, Mary was short, though still taller than Frisk by a good foot, and moderately thin. She had long, straight, brownish-blond hair that fell limply about her shoulders. She tended to wear those really short shorts, jeans that were cut off and then rolled up even further. She wore sneakers without socks, something that Sans found hilarious, and always sported the charity's custom t-shirt. It was a rather bland design, simple but to the point; white fabric with a dark silhouette of a monster on the front. Inside of the monster was a white silhouette of a human with a green soul. Really very fitting, for Mary at least. She always wore a colored camisole underneath, apparently to make her feel more modest, despite the shirt being nowhere near revealing in any way. The only other thing she adorned herself with was a small chain necklace with a simple cross perched proudly on her chest. She was smiley, and had a really nice laugh; musical and energetic, while also reserved.

Frisk liked her a lot.

Away from all the raucous of the crowd, Frisk could now both see and hear Undyne as well, the captain's loud, demanding voice shouting directions every which way, keeping things moving in a swell of organized chaos. She wasn't in her armor; in fact, Frisk hadn't seen Undyne in full war apparel since the day they had first met... _This_ run anyway. Instead she sported her black sleeveless top and a pair of vibrant blue leggings. Her feet were bare, dirty from trampling around in the clay and grass without shoes. She seemed to like the feeling of Surface dirt between her slightly webbed toes, though Frisk was sure she would put on some sort of footwear for the meeting.

"Alright! You there! Take those three boxes down to the supply tent. Dogamy, help your mate, will you? She's staggering! Yes, Yes, I know. Hey! Lesser, stop getting distracted, we don't have much time! Yes, I think- GREATER!!! For the last time, get your freak'n nose  _out of those crates!_ "

Undyne growled like a feral beast, enunciating the sound for the canines' benefit, a means of showing her displeasure. She shooed Greater Dog away from a crate full to the brim with brown paper bags, grumbling in frustration. Greater, who towered over Undyne, Mary, and Mary's truck like a furry, metal clad dinosaur, gave a whine and lumbered away, his footfalls heavy enough that Frisk could feel the vibrations thumping against the earth, even from several yards away. Frisk wasn't sure why the dog still wore his armor around camp, but she supposed if  _she_  was as small without it as Greater was, she'd have a size complex too.

"Freak'n dogs and their freak'n keen sense of smell," Undyne muttered grouchily, no real anger in her voice, just annoyance. She looked up as Papyrus, Sans, and Frisk made their way into the light of the lanterns set up around the truck, her eye widening in what could almost be called relief. The emotion lasted all of five seconds before her single, yellow iris narrowed as she caught sight of Sans. Her expression filled with both irritation and amusement as her sharp teeth gleamed in the lamplight in a snarling half smile. "Well look who  _finally_  decided to show up. Where'd you find them, Papyrus? Toriel's just about ready to flip her sh- Er...her...lid? Yeah! Flip her lid!"

Frisk held back a snort of laughter. Ever since Undyne had become a part of Frisk's close-knit, patchwork little family Toriel had been very strict about things like vulgar language and swearing, something that, unfortunately, was deeply embedded in Undyne's vocabulary. It had taken weeks of stern talks and silent glares on Toriel's part to get the boisterous captain to consider her words more carefully, especially around Frisk and the other monster children. Not that Frisk was all that innocent in that regard; she knew all the swears and their meanings. Resets did that, allowed one to experience all there was of something, until it was exceedingly familiar. Frisk simply chose not to use that particular strain of knowledge, and appreciated her adopted mother's dedication to her 'innocent young mind'. Undyne had made progress, the corrective behavior having become almost habit. Other monsters had been trained to the same end, mostly guards who had spent a lot of time around Undyne and her slew of colorful metaphors.

It was all good. Frisk was more mature than her small, nine-year-old body projected her to be.

Another one of those weird, semi-perks of the resets.

Frisk felt guilt settle in her heart as Undyne's words sunk in. "I'm sorry," she offered weakly. "I didn't realize it was so late."

"Eh, it's not _your_ fault," Undyne informed, tone stiff as her eye slid meaningfully in Sans's direction. It locked onto the diminutive skeleton, boring into him like a heated drill.

Papyrus, for all his earlier scolding, winced at the harshness in his captain's voice. His hold on his brother tightened a little, protective, even though they all knew Sans had nothing to fear from Undyne. For all her rough exterior, her soul was kind and passionate. She would never hurt Sans.

"I FOUND THEM MAKING THEIR WAY THROUGH CAMP," Papyrus explained. "THEY WERE HEADED BACK BEFORE I CAME ALONG."

"just took us a little longer on the return journey than we expected," Sans chipped in lazily. He stifled a yawn into Papyrus's shoulder to further illustrate his complete lack of being intimidated.

Undyne shook her head as though disappointed, gaze not leaving Sans for a second. "Seriously, Sans, Toriel's gonna be  _pissed_. She's been worried out of her mind that something happened to you and the squirt. What is  _wrong_  with you?! Do you get some sort of sick satisfaction out of making people freak out?!" She growled, pretending that she had not been concerned, but Frisk knew better. Sans, apparently, knew better as well.

"are you really upset about that? or is this still about the whole one hp thing?"

"Shut up."

Sans gave her a one shouldered shrug and a self-helpless smile, before Papyrus was gently detaching him from his side and setting him down on solid ground. "heh. by the way, you wanna call doggo in? he's out by the west fringe, chucking attacks at anything that moves. looked a bit tense. think you can give him a little break? i think greater was supposed to relieve him, but, well..."

Undyne sighed, frustrated. "That walking fur bag's been sticking his nose into everything. Must have gotten too excited and missed his shift. Yeah, yeah, I'll fetch 'im." She pulled a face. "The heck is Doggo doing out there, anyway? It isn't his shift."

"eh, guess Dogamy sold him his shift for a pack of biscuits."

"Ugh." Undyne rolled her eye. "Half-blind mutt's getting to be just about as much of a pain in the butt as you are."

"it's a gift."

"Whatever." Undyne then raised her voice, loud enough that everyone in the vicinity winced at the volume. "Yo! Greater!"

The still retreating form of the canine gargantuan paused, looking back.

"Head to the west fringe, will ya?! You've kept Doggo out there waiting!"

Greater's face lit up in guilty remembrance, before he turned and lumbered into the crowd, headed the way Frisk, Sans, and Papyrus had come. Undyne grinned in satisfaction, hands on her hips.

"There. Problem solved."

Sans nodded in agreement, before he looked up at the young human girl who was still standing on the bed of her truck. "heya, mare."

Mary smiled down on him fondly, dimples growing more prominent in her cheeks. She had remained silent during the exchange between the monsters, probably feeling a bit left out, but now, at Sans's attention, her face lit up and came to life.

"Hey, Socks."

_'Socks'._

Frisk felt her heart warm. Sans had lived with every nickname under the sun, from 'lazybones' to 'bone boy', 'Sansy' to 'bonehead', but Mary's tribute to Papyrus's telling of the sticky-note incident in Snowdin was completely original, and Frisk could tell that Sans absolutely adored it. Not only did it keep the memory of that aspect of Sans and Papyrus's life in Snowdin alive, but it also proved to be a fantastic excuse to use every fabric and clothing pun Sans had in his arsenal. Much to everyone else's chagrin.

Sans's smile grew. "ya know, calling me names will only leave me in  _stitches_."

Mary's face paled, gaze shooting up to Papyrus's nonplussed expression. "Socks, no-"

"what? you don't like my jokes?  _darn*_."

"No!"

Mary crouched down on the tailboard of her truck, wiggling a finger in his smirking face and trying to look angry. It was a moot attempt; Frisk could see she was trying hard not to loose herself to a fit of giggles. That, and Mary wasn't exactly intimidating. Her cheeks blushed, stray locks of hair framing the sides of her face. "Stop. We're not doing this again. The last time you went on a pun streak Papyrus almost tore the side mirror off my truck in a fit of rage." She glowered, or, at least, she tried to. "And you  _know_  how much he likes my truck. He must have been driven mad by your terrible jokes."

Papyrus winced with a whimpered, "SORRY".

"that's okay, bro. we all get a little carried away sometimes. but it's good you can  _reflect_  on what you did."

"SANS!"

"heh."

"Alright, alright," Undyne groused. She turned and motioned to one of the Dogi, Dogaressa, who quickly trotted up to join them. Her eyes were bright in the lamplight, tail wagging as she snapped to smart attention. "Go find the queen and tell her Frisk is with me. Tell her everything's fine and Sans is back too." She gave the skeleton in question another hard look.

"Yes, Captain!" Dogaressa yipped, before she took off into the crowd like a shot, transitioning to all fours so she could move faster.

Undyne nodded in satisfaction. "Now that that's out of the way..." She eyed the crate of brown paper bags. "What you got in here that the Dogs are so interested in, huh? I feel like I've been beating them off of your truck since you got here."

Mary laughed nervously, standing back up on top of the truck bed. She rubbed the back of her neck, blushing even more. "O-Oh, uh, I think they must smell the peanut brittle I brought."

Undyne blinked, neck craned forward, unimpressed. "Peanut  _what?_ "

"Brittle." Mary smiled, switching to rubbing her arm shyly.

Undyne tended to make Mary a little nervous, though Frisk couldn't blame her. Undyne could be a little...intense, sometimes. Or, most of the time. She was well-liked, of course, but it was a known fact that you didn't want to get on Undyne's bad side.

Mary grabbed one of the brown paper bags and opened it up, taking out something that, truthfully, looked like a lumpy chunk of brown plastic. She handed it out to Undyne, somewhat beseechingly, hand ready to retract like she thought Undyne might bite her.

"...The hell is that?"

"I-It's a type of candy. Peanut brittle. Want to try?"

The captain glared at the morsel with her one good eye, cocking her head like a bird might before plucking up a worm. Undyne reached out and swiped the candy out of Mary's fingers, continuing to eye it suspiciously as she turned it left and right. "This isn't like those popping rock thingies you brought last time, is it?"

Mary quickly shook her head.

The young woman liked to bring new treats and treasures with her when she visited, a means of sharing her world with the monsters she had become so fond of. Last week, she had brought a candy that crackled in your mouth when you ate them. Frisk hadn't tried them, but Undyne certainly had, and her reaction had been hilarious. The look on her face after she ate the entire package of little exploding 'rocks' was priceless, and Sans had been snorting with laughter over the event for the past six days.

Seemingly reminded of it now, the skeleton heaved a small huff of a laugh, one that Undyne didn't miss. She sent Sans a warning glare, looking thoroughly willing to chuck him across the clearing.

"Don't push your luck, bonehead," she grumbled. "Piss me off, and you'll be laughing out the other side of your face."

Sans gave a lazy wink and fell silent.

Bringing the chunk of unappetizing looking candy to her nose, Undyne gave it a loud sniff. "Huh. Smells nice. Sweet."

"Oh," Mary started to say in warning, "be careful when you bite into it, they can be rather-" She broke off as Undyne chomped down on the treat, pieces of peanut brittle flying off in all directions under the vicious attack of teeth. "...hard?" she finished weakly.

If she had been worried about Undyne hurting her teeth, she needn't have bothered. Frisk had seen the fish-like monster chew on boulders as a means of cleaning her chompers. There wasn't a substance on earth humans could make that would shatter those sharp, yellow teeth, Frisk was certain.

Undyne licked her lips, her tongue working to keep what actually landed in her mouth there while she chewed, savoring the taste. Her eye lit up in pleasure and she grinned in approval. "Hey, that stuffs pretty good!" She gobbled up the rest so fast it was a blur. "What's in this stuff?"

Mary shrugged. "Sugar. Peanut butter. Some nuts. That's pretty much it."

Undyne nodded, eyeing the crate of paper bags. "I bet everyone else would love to give those things a try! Mind if I pass them around while you unload the rest of the supplies? The dogs can help, and I guarantee they'll be more cooperative with those treats out of smelling range."

"Yeah, sure. I mean, I brought a lot, but I doubt there'll be enough for everyone to get a taste. Maybe if you break in up really, really small? I don't know." Mary hopped down and moved to slide the crate off of the cargo bed and into her arms. She staggered a little under the weight, until Undyne swept in and took it from her like it was as light as a feather.

"Come on, Papyrus! Let's pass this stuff out!" Undyne marched off into the ring of monsters watching on the sidelines like an angel bearing gifts, Papyrus trailing excitedly behind her.

Frisk took a step to follow, but Sans's gentle hand landing on her arm kept her where she was.

"we should probably stay here, kiddo," he said softly. "wait for your mom so she doesn't show up here only to find us 'missing' again. we're in enough trouble as it is, and remember, i still have to plead your case so you can stay in tonight."

Frisk thought it over, then gave a quick nod of agreement.

Sans ruffled her still damp hair, before turning to Mary with a look of friendly teasing. "you know, my brother's already pretty hyper  _without_  you filling his system with sugar," he drawled matter-of-factly.

Mary turned her head to look at him, giving a rare smirk, then rolled her eyes skyward like she was trying to recall something with difficulty. "I seem to remember  _someone_  telling me once that he didn't care  _what_  I gave Papyrus as long as it made him happy," she recited. "I hate to tell you this, Socks, but a happy Papyrus, is a hyper, sugar-filled Papyrus."

"...touché."

Sans gave her a lazy smile. He moved forward, folding his arms on the lowered truck bed flap and settled his skull on top of them. Even still standing he could find a distinctly at-rest position to recline in. The majority of his meager weight rested on his arms, one leg crossing over the other beneath him. If he got the balance right, he might even be able to fall asleep like that without falling over. A lantern rested at his elbow, illuminating his face rather dramatically, the shadow and light a stunning contrast.

"what is this? pick-on-sans-night?" he drawled with another yawn.

"Every night is pick on Sans night," Mary laugh musically, cheeks a pleasant pink. "Either because you're too good to pass up, or you deserve it."

"hey, hey, hey. i haven't played any pranks today. just ask the kid. m'clean."

Mary looked to Frisk expectantly, and smiling in mischief Frisk shrugged. "Today he's been good."

"Wow, not even a whoopie-cushion-in-the-hand trick? Dang." She turned back to Sans as she took hold of a crate. "Who are you and what have you done with the real Sans the Skeleton?"

Sans huffed, amusement shining in his eye lights. "welp. you got me. i'm actually an evil doppelganger from another universe out to steal your sans's secret stash of ketchup."

"...You have a secret stash of ketchup?"

"maaaaybe."

Mary shook her head, smiling. "You're so weird." She grunted as she pulled herself up further into the cargo bed, kicking leaves out and dusting the dirt off her hands by rubbing them on her shorts. "But I guess we'll keep you around. I have to get my dose of entertainment somewhere, don't I? And you always supply me with so many good sources of tease material. Isn't that right, Frisk?"

Frisk was only too happy to join in. "Yup!" she beamed.

"oh no, betrayed." Sans slapped a hand to his chest with a lazy dramatic flare, leaning his skull to the side like he didn't have the energy to be truly affronted. "ugh. ya guys wound me."

Mary very gently nudged the skeleton's shoulder with the toe of her shoe. "Yes, yes, we're terrible. Now, you going to help me with these or not?"

Sans blinked, feigning innocence. "hm?"

Mary gave another grunt, using her whole body to try and slide the boxes of supplies closer to the edge of the truck. "I said, are you going to help me or not?" she groused. "I'm working my tail off here, and you're taking a wide-eyed nap."

"you don't have a tail," Sans commented with yet another wink.

"Socks. Up. Help."

"how?"

"'How' up, or 'how' to help?"

Raising his gaze upward without moving his body an inch, Sans grinned. "how do i help, mare? tho' 'how up' works too, i guess."

"You know very well how to help," Mary insisted, pausing to crouch down again beside him, motioning to her eye. "The light show. Flashy-flashy."

Sans gave a snort, closing his eyes and settling further into his crossed arms. "pfft. flashy-flashy?" he repeated in amused disbelief.

Mary threw her head back with an over exaggerated groan. "Uuuuugh, you know. The thing you do with your eye that makes things all floaty."

"i have no  _eye_ -dea what you are referring to, ma'am."

Frisk stifled a laugh as the young woman slumped in exasperation, Mary's arms falling to slap against her own thighs in caricature of her annoyance. "You are incorrigible."

"funny. i thought i was sans."

He cracked open an eye socket, probably not wanting to miss her expression. Frisk couldn't see it as well with the lamplight shining in her eyes, but going by Sans's face, it must have been very entertaining. It was all in fun. Teasing seemed to be one of the ways Sans interacted with people. Sincerity often made him uncomfortable, which was why when Mary took that moment to crouch down and press a finger very lightly to the ridge of Sans's nasal cavity, Frisk could just discern the smallest of flinches in the skeleton's shoulders. Mary met his gaze and smiled, but whatever she was about to say was cut off by a sharp and breathless exclamation.

"Sans the Skeleton of Snowdin!"

Said skeleton shot upright like lightening had shot up his spine, a faint swear hissing through his teeth as he straightened. Frisk heard his spine crackle in protest at the sudden activity, making her wince, and sweat started to appear on Sans's skull as his grin stretched wide and nervous over his face. He turned, hands twitching at his sides, forced to stay out of his pockets for the time being, as he faced his approaching friend.

Emerging from the crowd and into the roped off area, Toriel made an imposing sight. Kind and gentle though she was, when properly angered she could be a force to be reckoned with, and the way she was marching toward them, strides long and purposeful, told Frisk that they were in for some serious scolding.

Frisk subconsciously moved to take Sans's hand in hers as a means of encouragement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Darn - as in "darn your socks", to sew up any holes in the fabric. I put this down in the notes because in a novel class I took in college I was the only student out of twenty-something to know what this means.


	3. For That Which We Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interactions between Sans and Toriel in this prologue might hint at a Soriel relationship, but I assure you that is not the relationship they will end up having. I am simply touching upon some of the somewhat almost flirty interactions the two have at the end of the game (the reason why I think so many people ship the two). Since this prologue takes place only a few months after the Barrier fell, I figured some of those awkward interactions between them might still exist. The next book in this series take place a few years after this, wherein the characters have finally settled into their prospective roles, and Sans and Toriel have become just very close friends.

The moment Sans saw Toriel's expression, he knew he was in for a lecture. Her strides were sharp, jolted, and filled with purpose; her brow lowered in a manner he, and many others before him, knew very well and typically tried to avoid. If that wasn't all proof enough of just how deep a hole he had dug for himself, her magenta eyes were fixed heatedly with his own, boring into his very soul. She was literally still twenty feet away, and he already felt thoroughly chastened. For some odd reason, Sans found that Toriel's scolding tended to cut deeper with him than anyone else's. Papyrus he was used to, and Undyne's rage-filled rants were easy enough to ignore and fun to goad into further frustration, but Toriel...

Toriel and him were very close.

Close in the same way two soldiers might grow close after having saved each other's lives in battle, or close in a way only two truly lonely souls can be. It was a closeness that came with understanding and tentative comfort. Their friendship stretched back to the days they had spent, backs pressed to two sides of the same, great, oaken door, telling jokes to one another as a means of passing the time and keeping their sanity. They hadn't known each others' names back then, and they had never really bothered to share, both soaking in the comfort the other gave without question of who or what they were. When they had finally met face to face, their friendship had only grown to something all the stronger, with Toriel taking on a more motherly role. Then again, that was the role Toriel took with everyone. Sans had never had a mother, that he could remember, and if he could have one, and count her as a close friend as well, then that was great. 

He had needed that. And so had she.

Toriel had once told Sans she might have wasted away in the Ruins had it not been for his kindness. Sans felt the same way about her. The resets resulted with him knowing a good deal more about her than she knew of him, his memories of the timelines cumulative. He knew just what jokes made her laugh the hardest. He knew what her favorite colors were, and what she did and did not care for when it came to food. He knew she had a soul of gold, and that she loved all who would allow her to dote on them. Anyone younger than her she felt was her responsibility to care for, Sans and Papyrus among them.

Sans, meanwhile, knew he was a bit of a mystery. He never volunteered information if he could help it, and he wasn't much one for sharing his personal history, mostly because it was a jumbled mess even he had a hard time sifting through. But his somewhat closed off personality didn't dampen their friendship in the least. In fact, some days Sans thought that Toriel might even enjoy the task of trying to figure him out. They really did have a lot in common, and that companionship had helped them continue on, despite the separate burdens that they bore.

But Sans knew perfectly well that just because he held a place in the Boss Monster's soul, it didn't mean he was exempt from her wrath when it was warranted.

Beside him, Mary's blue eyes widened, the girl taking a hesitant step back, like a skittish animal getting ready to run. "What did you  _do?_ " she whispered as Toriel drew nearer.

Sans didn't answer, turning to face his dear friend head on, accepting the judgement to come. Small fingers latched onto his, Frisk offering silent support, and he gripped back, more to comfort the kid than himself. Frisk was probably in for it too, honestly, but it helped knowing he wasn't facing Toriel's anger alone. The queen was very stern and sharp when need be, but wasn't one to truly fear. She would never hurt anyone, least of all those she loved without restraint.

Toriel's gaze was hard and serious, still latched onto Sans as she finally came to a stop in front of him and Frisk. She took him in, her gaze scanning his small frame and resigned expression, the forced smile he beamed up at her, shaky at the edges. She looked like she was sizing him up, but Sans knew better. She was making sure he wasn't hurt, her worry still taking president over her anger. Her eyes shifted to Frisk, face softening in relief as she slowly lowered into a kneel, holding her arms open wide in a welcoming gesture, if not also a little demanding.

Frisk let go of Sans's hand immediately, moving into her mother's much larger embrace. Thick, strong arms enveloped her, and Sans felt guilt starting to eat at his soul when he noticed the almost indiscernible tremor in his friend's posture. Toriel's breaths were stuttered and tight with emotion against Frisk's ear, her muzzle looking soft and fuzzy against her cheek. She had closed her eyes, maybe in relief, maybe in some hidden emotional pain, but opened them again to pierce him with a stern look over Frisk's shoulder, magenta orbs shiny and a little moist.

Sans  _really_  hoped she wasn't going to cry; he felt bad enough as things were.

Toriel blinked, returning her attention to Frisk as she gently extricated the child from her chest, holding the kid out at arms length, checking her over.

"Oh, Frisk! My child, I was so worried! I sent you to go bathe hours ago it seems! You didn't wander off, did you?" She cupped the side of Frisk's face with a single padded hand, thumb stroking over a little, tiny scratch that resided on Frisk's cheek. She must have gotten it when she fell against the side of that big rock. "Are you hurt?"

That slow rolling guilt solidified in Sans's chest. He should of been quicker finding Frisk, he realized. If not for time's sake, than for Toriel's. He of all people should have known how her worry would wear at her. How, the longer they took getting back, the longer Toriel would have time to dredge up memories of children long since dead. She blamed herself, Sans knew she did, and as a result she suffered a terrible fear of losing those closest to her, and it was something he really needed to start taking into greater consideration. That paranoia, that illogical, gnawing panic; Sans knew what that was like. He knew the pain fear could cause when it was left to stew and knot in one's soul, how it could chip away at one's sense of self and perception of reality. How it could warp priorities.

He should have been quicker.

Plain and simple.

Frisk leaned back in the hold Toriel had on her shoulders, fixing her adopted parent with an apologetic smile. "No, no, I'm alright. I took a bath like you wanted, but then I got thinking and lost track of time. I went to the big rock in the forest clearing, the one I told you about. I didn't know it had gotten so late. I'm really sorry I worried you."

The kid was either really, honestly sorry, or Sans was witnessing the skill of the best actor in the world - excluding himself, of course - because those were definitely tears in Frisk's eyes.

Toriel sighed in relief, her own shoulders sagging as tension left them. She gave her head a little half shake, her thick, floppy ears dragging over her shoulders, and a fond sternness entered her tone. "I am just relieved that you are alright. I too know how one can get lost in their thoughts, especially on a beautiful night such as this, but, please, my child...next time you feel the need for a little time to yourself, alert someone who can assure me of your safety?" She gave a final swipe of her thumb over Frisk's cut, forgiveness in her gaze. "You will do this for me, will you not?"

Heh. Seemed the kid was going to get off easy this time. Sans could only hope he would be just as lucky.

Frisk swallowed, smile turning shaky at the almost desperate plea in Toriel's voice. "Yes," she choked out sincerely. "I will."

"Good. Very good. Thank you, my child." Toriel then cupped both sides of Frisk's face, her eyes sadly studying the dark circles that resided beneath each of Frisk's light brown eyes. She frowned at the sight, but made no comment. After two months, and having shared the same tent during all that time, Toriel knew well enough that Frisk suffered nightmares rather frequently. The interrupted sleep was unhealthy, but nothing anyone had tried so far had managed to help keep them at bay. It was just the way things were, and while it wasn't ideal, there really was no other option other than simply accepting it and hoping the nightmares would get better as time passed.

Sans knew the feeling.

Then again, his feelings on the matter were divided. He felt sympathetic, but also bitterly satisfied.

If anyone deserved nightmares...it was Frisk.

The tender moment was lost when Toriel's gaze rose, re-landing on Sans. The skeleton immediately froze, the weak smile that had been slowly inching across his face disappearing with an almost audible snap. Her expression turned to something sharp and...disappointed? Maybe. Maybe not. Sans had never been very good at interpreting the facial expressions of fleshier beings. He silently wished Toriel would go back to just being angry with him.  _That_  he could handle. He hated thinking he had let her down in any way.

"uh...h-hey, t." He forced his smile back in place, knowing how fake it probably looked. "what that look  _fur?_ "

Toriel's eyes narrowed. She slowly stood to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest like only a true matron can, disapproving and intimidating. "Do not try to sway my mood with humor, Sans Skeleton of Snowdin," she chided, softer this time, but no less condemning. "I sent you to go find Frisk over an hour ago. You had me in a near panic. I thought something must have happened, to the both of you. Do you have any idea how distraught I was?"

Oh, gods, were her eyes tearing up?

He knew he had goofed. Big time.

His entire life was one big messy sludge pit.

Could you get an award for worst skeleton in existence?

If so, he more than deserved it.

Out of the corner of his eye Sans saw Mary shift uncomfortably. He'd almost forgotten she was there. She looked nervous, and Sans honestly couldn't blame her. The girl was trying to give them a bit of privacy, something Sans appreciated, but there really wasn't anywhere she could go other than further back into the bed of her truck, stuck in among the boxes. Mary, obviously, didn't like confrontation. Heh. A little something she and him had in common apparently.

Sans's shoulders slumped. "i think i have a pretty good idea, yeah."

Toriel sighed, pinching the bridge of her snout in exasperation before her anger faded away completely. "Frisk means a lot to me, but so do you, my friend. The thought of losing either of you is...unbearable. And just think of how it would affect Papyrus...You mean the world to him, just as he means the world to you. If something befell you, he would be stricken."

Sans sank into his jacket a little. "aw, come on, tori. ya gotta have more faith in me than that. i know i'm no boss monster, but i can take care of myself, and the kid. took care of paps all my life, an' he turned out okay...i'm not made of glass..." He met her gaze, even though it was hard. Sincerity was difficult, for him. A byproduct of telling too many lies all his life. "just took me a while to track the kiddo down, and then the journey back and-"

"Be that as it may, you could have sent word back, Sans." Toriel cut in, gentle and sad. "You  _know_  how worried I get. Papyrus was also beside himself with nerves. Did you not have your cell phone with you?"

Sans winced, giving a nervous chuckle. "uh, well..." No sense lying. "...no. forgot it in my tent. wasn't charged anyway."

Toriel shook her head. "You really must take better precautions, my friend. Not only because of this instance, but because of your..."

She trailed off, but Sans already knew what she had been going to say. 'Health'. 'Condition'. It made him want to take a nap and not have to deal with any of this. Instead, he shrugged, pretending that it didn't bother him. "sorry, t. i'll do better next time."

"As I will be expecting. Alphys has supplied the dining tent with a charging station for all electronic devices. Please, charge your phone the next chance you get, and keep it with you."

"okay."

"I mean it, my friend."

"i...i know." Sans resisted the urge to shuffle his feet into the grass at his feet. A sudden CHECK made him flinch before he could stop himself.

Toriel retracted the action immediately, looking startled by his reaction. "O-Oh! Sans, I am sorry. I did not mean to hurt you!"

"didn't hurt," Sans assured quickly. "just...caught me by surprise."

CHECKS usually didn't hurt; they weren't  _meant_  to hurt, and that  _hadn't_  hurt, but Sans couldn't deny that they made him squirm in discomfort. A CHECK  _could_  be considered a breach of privacy, if conducted forcefully, or by a complete stranger. Only close family and friends could do so without a monster taking offense, or in the event of an Encounter - a fight. Sans though, he was more protective of his stats than most. His numbers read as singles, all across the board, and that wasn't exactly something he wanted everyone to know. His soul also seemed more sensitive to the action of being CHECKED, something Sans connected to a whole lot of uncomfortable feelings and hazy, faded memories.

"I just..." Toriel cleared her throat. "I am sorry, I should have asked. It was just out of habit."

"s'okay, tori, i understand." And he did. He could handle a little discomfort if it meant Toriel felt a little more at ease. "get a good reading?"

Toriel nodded slowly, still looking a bit concerned. "Yes...Though your HP is slightly lowered by a few decimals. Are you injured?"

Sans shook his head, smiling reassuringly. "nah. just a little tired. used some magic today. must have worn me out a little more than i thought."

Toriel only proceeded to look more worried. "Again, my friend, I apologize. I should have made sure you were alright before I scolded you." She was feeling guilty. That hurt Sans more than her chiding from before ever could.

"tori, really, it's not a big deal. i'm fine."

"Are you in need of any healing?"

"nope. a snack and a good nights rest should do the trick. maybe just a snack." He raised his voice, calling out to Mary's huddled frame. "hey, mare, you got any more of those weird flat candies?"

Mary sprang to life at his question.

"You mean the peanut brittle?"

"guess so. sorta looks like solidified alien puke."

Frisk made a face, as did Toriel. Mary just looked happy to help.

"Sans, please," Toriel warned, disgusted.

"sorry, sorry. heh. yeah, can i have a piece of that stuff, mare? i'd appreciate it."

"Sure! I have an extra bag in my truck. Just a sec!" Mary jumped down from her perch, running around the side to the front of her truck. It was out of the light of the lanterns, but Sans could hear the distinct sound of the rusty metal door swinging open. A weak light showed up in the square window at the back of the truck, along with an insistent pinging noise. Both stopped when Mary slammed the door shut once more. She ran back around to them, fingers digging into the bag in her hand. "Here you go, Socks."

She offered him a slightly larger chunk of peanut brittle than she had given Undyne, and Sans suspected she had overheard some of their conversation. Mary didn't know about his low HP, but it was more than obvious that he was weaker than his fellow monsters. Sans tried not to feel self-conscious about it. He raised his hand to receive the treat. The sooner he got his HP back up to one, the sooner Toriel would stop  _looking_  at him like that. Like he was broken and in need of coddling.

"thanks."

But before Sans could get his fingers around the morsel, Toriel's voice made him pause.

"Wait." The queen extended her own, far larger hand. She smiled kindly at Mary. "May I see it first, please?"

Mary looked confused for a moment, before her face lit up in understanding. She handed Toriel the piece of lumpy sweet without a word, eyes curious.

"Thank you."

Toriel's fingers closed around the treat and she cupped her other hand underneath, bringing both up toward her chest. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, and a moment later her hands ignited with a gentle, silver glow. It swirled about her fingers, trailing up and dissipating into the air like a cool mist. It might have been a confusing sight for Mary, if she hadn't seen it before, and been given an explanation.

Monsters were creatures made and sustained by magic, which meant that a lot of the ingredients in human food were basically useless, other than tasting really good. Just as humans couldn't get the nutrients their bodies needed from eating just plain monster food, monsters couldn't survive on just plain human food. Magic had to be infused into the meals, something that could only be done by monsters of high HP or magic output. Toriel, Asgore, Undyne, Grillby, and a number of the encampment's residents where more than willing and capable of doing just that, ensuring that everyone was properly fed, in all respects. All those less powerful relied on the magic of others for survival, otherwise their magic reserves would lower to the critical, resulting in malnutrition. Long term, it might even be fatal. Back underground, all food obtained or grown within the caves or in the farming rooms within New Home were infused with magic before being sold. It wasn't until monsters had come to the Surface that it had become an issue they had to be conscious about.

Toriel finished infusing the candy, her magic fading away and leaving the treat shimmering for a moment or two after, before that too faded. She opened her hands, scrutinizing, before she smiled and handed Sans the modified morsel. "Here you are, my friend. It would have done you very little good otherwise."

Sans accepted the peanut brittle with a humble tip of his head. "heh...thanks, tori." He was grateful. Really, he was. Besides, Toriel was in full mother-mode. Had he protested, it would have accomplished nothing.

"Would you like some as well?" Mary asked, offering yet another brown chunk to Toriel. "I checked with Alphys before I brought them. Come to find out, monsters don't suffer from specific allergies, like peanut allergies, the way humans do. Because you absorb all nutrients right into your magic, there isn't any fear of your bodies mistaking peanut proteins as something harmful. And without a bloodstream, your bodies can't release chemicals into your system that would end up harming you." She blinked, blushing. "I-In other words, it's perfectly safe. And as far as I know, none of the Ebottian High Court is allergic to peanuts either. I, uh...checked into it."

Toriel held up a grateful hand, but declined. "I appreciate the gesture, my dear, but I do not feel it will settle well with me at this time."

"feeling anxious?" Sans inquired. He was nibbling at his own piece, the brittle disappearing against his teeth as his magic took it in, dissolving it into magi-particles. It tickled a little, and was incredibly sweet.

Papyrus must be running on hyperactive by now.

"Mm. A little," Toriel replied. She gave him a tired, rueful look. "Meetings were never my favorite duty as a royal. They still are not."

"yeah. same here."

Frisk caught Sans's attention, her eyes meeting his before she tilted her head toward her mother. Not the subtlest of gestures, but Sans knew the kid was feeling anxious. Toriel was in a far better mood now, having gotten all that concern and upset out of her system, so the time was almost right to propose his idea. Almost. He gave the atmosphere time to clear as he steadily finished his treat, wiping the sticky residue from his fingers and onto the sides of his shorts. In the dark it wouldn't be noticeable. Tomorrow was laundry day anyway.

"uuuh, speaking of responsibility," he began as tactfully as possible. He reached out and lightly touched Toriel's elbow to get her full attention. When she looked down at him, he gave her a small smile. "can i...talk with you a minute, tori? privately?"

Toriel's brow furrowed. "Is something wrong, my friend?"

"no, no, it's...just can we talk?"

"In private?" she repeated uncertainly.

He nodded.

Toriel raised her head, scanning the crowded clearing. Her eyes trailed over to the dirt road, considering where the lamplight barely reached. She nodded regally with her head. "We could go over there. No one will bother us."

Sans gave the spot a glance. "yeah. that'll do."

"Very well." Toriel nodded to Mary. "You may give Frisk a piece of your candy. But, Frisk, my child, you must wait until we have eaten dinner before you have it. You will do this?"

"I will do this," Frisk smiled in agreement.

Toriel nodded. "There will surely be food at the meeting. There usually is." She held out a hand, laying it ever so gently on the back of Sans's skull; a means of keeping track of him while they moved, so she wouldn't trip over him by mistake. "Come, my friend."

Sans allowed himself to be herded out onto the darkened roadside.

* * *

Toriel liked to think that she was a fairly observant monster. Ages of life had granted her a keen sense of spotting the well hidden emotions and feelings of others, what drove them, what constituted for the inner workings of a monster's internal thoughts. She would not go so far as to say that she was a good judge of character, her past with her ex-husband proved that, but she was able to pick out certain moods in others, perhaps a little quicker or more clearly than most. Happiness and joy, of course, were easy emotions to detect. It was the same fluttering feeling she had experienced on the day Asriel had been born, or the day her people had been freed from the mountain. It was the feeling she felt all around her within the monster encampment, like a great pulsing warmth, hundreds and hundreds of souls all filled with the same relief; the same hope.

But Toriel was also experienced with the sadder, darker emotions life had to offer. She had endured the War after all, wherein a large portion of her people had been slaughtered. She herself had lost a lot of good friends to the humans during that time, and that loss sat in her chest like a heavy stone. It was a wonder that she could find it within herself to forgive humanity at all, considering, but monsters were creatures of mercy and compassion, and, in most cases, Toriel was no different.

And then, of course, had come the crushing grief as a result of losing her two children. A sorrow few could truly understand. A sorrow that was followed by so many more as human after human fell down into the Ruins, fell under her care, only to leave her and never return. The guilt of it all was an acidic foe, one that burned at her soul whenever it found the opportunity. It was only the care of her newfound friends and family, and the determination of her child, that kept that dreadful despair from crippling her. Even still, some days it was hard to push past the memories.

Yes. Having suffered regret and sorrow for a good portion of her time underground, it was those feelings she was most familiar with, and the ones that she could most accurately recognize when she saw them in someone else.

Sans, however, was a puzzling exception.

Oh, she could tell there was something wrong with him. 'Wrong' in the sense that the joyful light all other monsters seemed to carry felt dim and weak when she was with him. He tried to hide it behind a calm smile and a lazy demeanor, but Toriel was no fool. It might have been just the fragility of his magic, but Toriel could not help suspecting that there was more to her friend's depleted cheer than that. She recognized the invisible weight that made his shoulders slump in exhaustion and she took concerned note of the dark, bruising shadows that made a home beneath the skeleton's sockets, increasing each day as though he were not sleeping properly at night. She knew that look. She had seen it staring back at her from her bathroom mirror in the Ruins many a time.

And Toriel knew she was not the only one to have noticed. Those worried glances Papyrus sometimes cast in Sans's direction were hard to ignore, and both Alphys and Undyne had come to her separately, in private, to point out just how ill Sans had begun to appear. He looked close to collapse most days, and yet he was still so involved in everything, as much as a lazy skeleton can be, smiling and punning as though he was in complete denial of how he was feeling. Then again...Perhaps he was fine? Having one HP could not provide one with much energy to spare. If he was having difficulty sleeping, then of course he would be feeling out of sorts.

The frustrating thing was how he refused to acknowledge that fact.

Sans was a closed book. He was evasive, a natural dodger, and an uncanny manipulator of conversation. Questions were swatted away by jokes and puns, concerns equally so, and his easygoing nature worked as a sturdy shield to cover something far more...vulnerable. If he realized how thin that shield had become, he did not show it, continuing on as if the world had never changed and never would. 'Unaffected' might be the term Toriel was looking for. No manner of fawning over the diminutive skeleton ever made any progress, and over the last few months Toriel had all but given up. Maybe this was just the way Sans was. Maybe he was carrying some burden or other, but perhaps it was more a scar than an open wound. It really was not any of Toriel's business anyway, other than being his queen and him being under her care; him being one of her people. Toriel would never have labeled herself as nosy, but, then again, perhaps that was just stubbornness on her part.

She could be  _very_  stubborn.

As Toriel led Sans out of the lamplight and onto the dirt road, the two of them shrouded by a heavy, yet warm darkness, she studied him with fondness as she always did. Their difference in size made their friendship amusing, as they must have looked so very funny, standing side by side, when Sans barely even made it to her upper thigh in height. It was also the nature of their positions that made their friendship unique, her a high royal, him a fringe dweller, a sentry. Not that she had ever held any contempt of the lower class monsters, in fact quite the opposite, but it did succeed in making them a funny pair.

"This should be far enough," the queen murmured gently. They came to a halt, gritty clay and rocks grinding softly beneath Sans's slippers and her own giant paws. "No one should be able to hear us from this distance. Unless some little scamp is hiding in the bushes." She eyed said bushes on the roadside with comical scrutiny, trying to keep the mood light.

Sans gave a genuine chuckle. "heh. we should be good. what i got to say isn't so private a matter that we need to de-bug the forest." He grinned, his hands remaining firmly tucked in the pockets of his hoodie.

Toriel hummed in agreement. "Thank stars. Now, what is it you wish to talk with me about, my friend? Are you still not feeling well after Mary's treat? I could find you something more, if you wish. Something with a bit more healing power?"

"no, no, i'm fine. really, tori. it's...it's not me i wanna talk to you about."

"...Oh?"

Sans raised a hand to rub nervously at the back of his neck, looking considerably less sure of himself than he had a few moments ago. "it's...geez. i'm not very good at this."

Toriel frowned softly. "Good at what?"

"talking. in general. though, talking about someone else is always easier than talking about myself, so...here goes. i want to talk to you about frisk."

Toriel felt her soul give a nervous pulse. A feeling she with which she was more than intimately familiar. "Frisk? Oh, Sans, did something happen to my child?!"

The skeleton quickly raised his hands, placating. "what? no, no! no, nothing like that. i mean, we had a bit of a scare out in the woods, but she's fine. honest, tori. she's fine." He gave her a reassuring smile, though sweat had formed on his skull. "i just wanted to ask if...if they kid can stay in tonight."

A pause. Toriel cocked her head, confused. "You mean...not go to tonight's meeting in the city?"

Sans winced. "look, i know it's a really weird request-"

"It is," she responded firmly, in a no-nonsense tone. "And one I am sure you will be explaining, yes?"

Sans nodded slowly. "...more or less," he murmured under his breath.

Toriel's frown deepened. "Sans, my friend, you know perfectly well that Frisk must attend all meetings. She is the ambassador. She is the bridge that closes the gap between our people and hers. She- "

"tori."

She stopped, her gaze returning to Sans's. His little eye lights were larger than normal, attempting to create more light to see by in the darkness that surrounded them. The white glow reflected off the rims of his sockets, shining out and illuminating her front and a section of the dirt road between them. It was unique, and rather pretty. It reminded Toriel of other skeleton monsters she had known. All of which had been taken from her during the War. She sometimes forgot that Sans and Papyrus were the last of their kind; the final, thriving examples of a people she had always considered among the bravest and dearest of monsterkind. It made her want to wrap him in her arms and cry, but she refrained. 

Her attention regained, Sans continued.

"listen, i know she's an important figurehead to the whole negotiations thing, but..."

Sans cast a quick glance over his shoulder, toward Frisk. Toriel followed his gaze quizzically. Her child was giggling at something Mary had said, her cheeks rosy and covered with a tired smile that she could see even from this distance. She seemed so happy, it warmed the Boss Monster's soul, renewing her spirit. Sans returned his eye lights to her.

"tori, the kid's tuckered out. take her in to that meeting tonight and she's bound to fall asleep or collapse."

Toriel startled, concerned. "Oh, dear, do you really think so?"

He nodded again, somber. There was no humor in his tone, only a firm sincerity, one that was rare for him. "i know she's the ambassador and all, but those big guys in town gotta understand...she's a child. she's nine years old, and this whole business is running her ragged. most adults wouldn't be able to keep up with half of what she's had to do. believe me, tori; she needs a break. just for tonight. the meeting will progress just fine with her here, and if the humans grumble a little, well, that's their right. they'll get over it."

Toriel gave a faint hum. She had noticed how worn down Frisk had been lately. It was not right for one so young to be so exhausted. But her responsibilities to her people had kept her from focusing on it too closely. Now that Sans was pointing it out, it was almost blaringly apparent of just how much in need of rest Frisk actually was. The smallest trickle of shame welled up in Toriel's soul. To think that Sans, a monster who took almost nothing seriously, would notice her child's needs before she did...

Well, perhaps she had been focusing a bit too hard on their end goal. True co-habitation with the humans was still months, if not years away. Working everyone into the ground would do nothing to speed things up.

Toriel gave Sans a sheepish half smile. "And you, my friend? Are you volunteering to keep an eye on her if she stays?" she prompted.

Sans grinned. "that's me, good ol' sans the babysitter. even if she isn't much of a baby."

An understatement. Toriel would say that Frisk was abnormally mature for her age, carrying a wisdom and way about her that only one of far more years would typically have mastered. Compared to the squabbling politics she had endured over the past few months, Frisk was a master of keeping others' attention, of persuasion, and of winning others over with her sincerity. She was more grown up than most human adults she had encountered thus far on the Surface.

"Mm. I suppose she is not," she smiled.

The skeleton shrugged. "besides, i'm never invited to these kinds of things. m'not important enough. don't gotta position worth the big shots trying to impress me."

"Sans, you know that is not true," Toriel insisted, an ache in her soul. "You are most certainly an important member of our-"

"i meant to anyone besides you guys," he cut in gently, a knowing smile eased across his face. "let's face it, when it comes to the humans, i'm just one out of hundreds and hundreds of monsters hoping for a better life. you don't see mary bringing me in letters of invitation, now do ya? heh. anyway, i'd conk right out at a meeting. politics have never really been my cup of tea." He chuckled lightly. "frisk could hang out with me for the evening. keep me some proper company. we could warm up some canned stew, play a game a' cards with the canine unit. you know. nothing spectacular, but it'll give the kiddo a chance to act her age for once."

"I...suppose you have a point...Cards..." Toriel murmured. Her eyes narrowed. "No gambling or betting, though, correct?"

Sweat broke out on Sans's brow. "nope. of course not. you banned that a long time ago."

"Mm. So I believe," she grunted, giving him a suspicious look. It melted into something gentler. Feeling the need to get closer to her friend's level, Toriel knelt down onto one knee, reading Sans carefully as he blinked in surprise. "Do not ever doubt your importance in all this, my friend. You may someday realize that you play a greater part in all our happiness than you think."

Sans's soul gave an odd little flicker, just barely visible beneath all his layers of coat and shirt; a sign that her words had touched him in some way. His grin grew a bit more strained, like he was holding back some emotion he did not want her to see. Instead, he murmured, "well... _that_ was strangely cryptic."

Toriel held his gaze a moment more before giving an elegant eye roll. "I am but a silly old woman, what did you expect?"

His expression softened. "nah...to all of us you're a whole lot more than that."

His words shot straight to her soul, and had she not had skin and muscle to hide it, she supposed her own soul might have sparked. Sans seemed to realize just how open a statement he had made, how genuine and kind, a faint glow of cyan blooming on the sides of his skull. He chuckled nervously.

"h-heh..." He took a step back, as though trying to distance himself from his own unguarded moment, and tucked his hands back into his pockets deeply. "so whaddaya think? can frisk stay?"

Again the Boss Monster considered her child on the other side of the clearing. Frisk did look rather tired, shoulders slumped and stance swaying slightly under the weight of her exhaustion. It tugged at Toriel's motherly instincts, prompting her to set aside any conflicting thoughts on the idea.

"I...suppose I could explain to the Ebottian officials and guests that she was not feeling well. As you said, she is a child. We sometimes forget that, I think." She straightened her shoulders. "She can stay. I will simply say that she was unwell and needed a night to recover. We can conduct the meeting just fine in her absence, I am sure."

Sans breathed a sigh of relief. "good. i'll go let the little squirt know." He started to shift away, probably planning to meander across the clearing to Frisk's side to tell the child the good news, but Toriel's heavy but gentle hand landed on his shoulder, bringing him up short. "whoop. was there something else, t?"

Toriel beat down on the anxiety rising in her soul, only partially succeeding in keeping it from her voice. "You said something happened in the forest?" She heard Sans swear under his breath, but for once refrained from chiding him. "What happened?"

"ah, tori-"

"Please, Sans. If it has something to do with my child, I deserve to know." An edge came into her tone. "Do not hide things from me."

Sans winced. He scuffed the heel of his dirty pink slipper into the soil, looking slightly ashamed. Only slightly. "kid took a tumble off that big ol' rock of hers. barely caught her in time. shook her up a little. scared me half to death." He sighed. "she's fine. only a few little scratches."

"And you?"

"...might have strained my magic a little."

Toriel nodded in keen understanding. "That is why your HP was down by a few decimals," she ventured, displeased.

"it was just a little, tori. barely noticeable."

"For a monster of high HP, maybe," Toriel countered, a slight growl to her voice. "For you it is far more serious. Do not take such a thing as your health so lightly, my friend. It...It..." The fire fell from her tone, leaving only loving concern. "It worries me." She sighed, raising a hand to her face to rub away the slight ache from behind her eyes. "I appreciate that you risked yourself for my child's sake, however large or small a way. But I would also appreciate it if you would keep your own health in mind with equal diligence."

Her expression softened. "A lot of people care about you very much, your brother and I among them. We want you safe. Only you can ensure that completely. You will...do this for me, will you not? For your brother?"

"aw, now that's hitting a little below the belt, ain't it? m'fine, tori, honest, i-"

"You are obviously in need of rest too, my friend. You have been looking a bit tired yourself, and do not think I have not noticed."

"eh, don't worry about me," Sans muttered in weak retaliation.

"Mm. Regardless, I  _do_  worry." The weight of her hand on his shoulder shifted down, cupping the joint of his elbow. "Promise me you will take care of yourself, my friend. Please?"

Sans winced yet again, but didn't pull away from the gentle touch. His voice seemed very small when next he spoke, tight and uncomfortable. "you know how i hate making promises, t."

"I do." Though she had no idea why. "But, sometimes, it is the only way I can know that you will keep your word." He seemed to be hurt by that, a shadow passing over his expression that Toriel could not properly read. It almost made her retract her demand. Almost. "You are a very mysterious monster, my friend." She smiled fondly, but the seriousness behind her words were just as plain. "Please, Sans. Promise me?"

Sans slumped slightly, on the verge of giving in. "heh. you really know how to manipulate a guy, you know that?"

She frowned. "It is not my intention to manipulate you." Her mouth quirked up at the corners. "Now, a little strategic diplomacy...that is another matter."

"pfft. how convenient." Sans wiggled his hands way far deeper in his pockets, his fingers fidgeting within them. "if it really means that much to ya...i promise, tori."

Toriel mentally sighed in relief. So much fuss over something that should be second nature. Did Sans honestly have no sense of self-preservation? "Good. I am...very glad to hear that. You and Frisk will rest tonight. Have fun, but make sure not to do anything foolish or dangerous. Stay within camp." Her expression hardened comically. "And no betting or gambling. Is that clear?"

"as clear as day," the skeleton chuckled. "and come on, what am i, a babybones? this is ol' sansy you're talk'n about. since when have i ever done anything foolish or dangerous?"

Toriel merely stared back at him, silent and stern.

Sans huffed in amusement, eye lights gleaming. "point taken. we'll be careful. just a pair of lazybones chill'n out for the night. okay?"

"That is satisfactory." Once again Toriel reached out and laid her hand against the other's form, urging him to lead the way. "Now. Let us get back to the others. We will be leaving soon, and I do not wish to be late."

"heh. i bet you've never been late a day in your life."

"Precisely. Which is why I do not wish to start now. Come along."

"sure thing, t."


	4. Not Goodbye, A See You Later

"-and they sort of teleport from one part of space to another using something called the Myceilial Network,*" Mary prattled, very enthused.

It was an aspect of Mary's personality that reminded Frisk a bit of Alphys. Shy, but when the right subject came up, she could talk for literally  _hours_.

"Anyway, it's a really cool show. Once you guys are living someplace with electricity and can get a TV, I'll come over and watch it with you. Alphys and Sans will definitively enjoy it, being science lovers and all. Though, if we're going to do that, we might as well start at the very beginning, with the original series, and work our way through everything together. Might take us a few years, but it's worth it."

Frisk smiled patiently, trying to appear interested in the very one-sided conversation. Normally, she would find her friend's talk of promised show binging exciting, but tonight it felt like an empty hope. There would be no tomorrow. There would be no next week, or next year. Tonight everything would be set back to zero, to when she had first fallen into the underground. These people wouldn't even know who she was, and Chara would strive to make them fear her next run, they'd made that much perfectly clear.

**Oh, get over it,** Chara hissed from the confines of her mind.

Frisk winced. All she cared about just then was the two monsters talking in the shadows over on the roadside, one so very tall, and the other so very small. She tried not to make it too obvious that she was watching them, nodding, humming and laughing along with Mary to keep up appearances, even as she kept focusing behind the young woman to her mother and friend.

That secluded discussion seemed to be going well enough. Her mother seemed attentive toward whatever it was that Sans was saying, the two conversing in low voices she couldn't quite make out. Sans's eye lights shone brilliantly in the dark, casting a dim, hazy glow on her mother and making her the easier of the two to see and read. Toriel's expression ping-ponged between concern and understanding. When she glanced in Frisk's direction, Frisk made sure to focus back on Mary, giggling at something the young woman had said. The instant Toriel's gaze shifted back to Sans, Frisk refocused.

At some point, Sans's shoulders relaxed. That was a good sign. He made as though to head back toward the truck, but Toriel stopped him. She seemed to have become worried about something. Frisk could tell by the way she was leaning over Sans; not looming, Toriel didn't  _loom_ , but an almost protective stance that towered over the far shorter figure. Her mother had used the same way of standing over Frisk more than once, when they were having particularly personal discussions that involved Toriel feeling anxious or intensely sincere. Sans must have said something that concerned her. That was either really good or really bad.

"-on't you think?"

Frisk blinked, realizing she had completely missed Mary's question. "Huh? O-Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds...good."

Mary frowned, before she looked over her shoulder with a raised brow. When she turned back, she was smiling ruefully. "You don't have to do that, you know," she said kindly.

"Do what?" Frisk responded automatically. Apparently, Sans had been rubbing off on her more than she had realized.

"Pretend you're listening," the young woman said with a laugh. "I can tell your mind is elsewhere. What's going on, Frisk? You seem..." She glanced back over toward Sans and Toriel. "...distracted."

The child grimaced. "Y-Yeah. Sorry...It's just...Sans is trying to convince mom to let me stay here tonight."

"Instead of going to the meeting?"

"Mm hm."

"Ooooh. I see." Mary tipped another box off of her truck and into her arms, handing it off to Dogamy. She waited until the canine was a safe distance away before resuming with a question. "You're not sick are you?"

"No...Just tired. Don't really feel like going."

"Ugh. I get that. There are some days I don't even want to go to my classes at the college I'm so done with it all. Stress makes me super sleepy, but when I sleep, I waste time, and then when I wake up I'm even more stressed because then I have less time to get things done."

Frisk wrinkled her nose. "College sounds awful."

"It's not too bad." Mary laughed. She handed yet another box off to yet another monster who had wandered over. "I mean, yeah, it's a lot of work, but by the time you get to college you're actually learning about stuff your interested in. No more math or English. Um, unless you still have a Gen Ed requirement. It doesn't mean it doesn't get a little stressful, but you have a lot more reasons not to just give up." Mary stretched her back, sore from bending over so much. "Do you know what you want to go to college for? If you're planning to go, that is. Not everyone does."

Frisk shrugged. "I've...never really given it much thought." She hadn't. Why bother? Resets made all possible futures irrelevant.

Mary looked surprised. "Never?"

"Nope."

"That's...Huh. You mean you never,  _ever_  had a dream of what you wanted to be when you grow up? Like a doctor, or an astronaut, or something?"

"Not really." At Mary's saddened expression Frisk quickly added, "I used to like reading and writing, though. Maybe a writer or something? Though, I think I'm going to be busy as ambassador for a while."

Mary gave a nod. "True. Hey, maybe you could go into political science."

"What's that?"

"It's a lot like what your doing now, just a little more in-depth. You learn about politics and the government and how it works. My friend Amy is majoring in political science. She says it's pretty neat."

Again Frisk shrugged. "Maybe. We'll see. I won't be going to college for a long time."

Mary agreed. "Yeah, you've got plenty of time to figure it out. For now, just be a kid for as long as you can."

"Okay," Frisk answered dully. It wasn't like she really had a choice. There were a lot of people out there who wished for eternal youth. Hadn't there been an explorer or someone that had wanted that? He'd ended up dead, struck down by the natives of the land he'd intruded upon, Frisk remembered that much. In some off way, he was lucky. Staying young forever was worth nothing when it was used against your will, to torture those you loved.

All further thoughts on the matter were dislodged as Undyne and Papyrus returned from the crowd, Undyne carrying the now empty crate under one arm. Both monsters looked a little roughed up, some of Undyne's red hair having sprung loose from her ponytail and Papyrus's battle body dirtied with peanut brittle smudges; but they both looked very pleased with themselves. Undyne stomped up and threw the crate into the back of Mary's truck noisily, causing Frisk and Mary to jump.

"I assume this means you guys passed out all the peanut brittle," the young woman beamed. "Was there enough for everyone?"

"Goodies delivered and consumed!" the captain crowed. "No, not enough for everyone, but enough for most to get a taste. Man, you should have seen all their faces! Could've sworn it was Gyftmus the way they were shoving them down their gobs!"

Mary raised a brow in question, looking to Frisk for translation. Frisk was, in a way, the expert on monster culture at this point, and on how it related to the ways of the Surface. "Gyftmas?"

"Oh, it's...It's kind of like Christmas," Frisk supplied. "But instead of lasting one day, it lasts for three."

"IT IS THE BEST HOLIDAY OF THE YEAR!" Papyrus enthused. He was trying to wipe away the brown smears from his white armor, but his attempts only succeeded in smudging them more. A horror, for someone who practically considered dirt the root of all evil. "THERE ARE MANY GIFTS, AND SINGING, AND STORYTELLING!" He sighed fondly. "I ALWAYS MADE MY BEST GYFTMAS SPAGHETTI, AND SANS WOULD ALWAYS HELP ME WRITE A LETTER TO SANTA!"

Frisk quickly sent a meaningful look to Mary, conveying that, yes, Papyrus believed wholeheartedly in Santa, and yes, Sans would probably  _dunk_  her if she said anything to the contrary. Mary, apparently, was very smart. Either that or she was a mind reader.

"Oh! Yes, Santa. Gotchya. You guys know about him too, huh? That's great, Papyrus." She smiled. "It's funny; how you guys have a holiday so close to one us humans celebrate. We should all get together and do a joint celebration. What time of year is Gyftmus usually celebrated?"

Undyne shrugged. "When the flowers in New Home have turned from yellow to yellow-orange."

"Yes, but what month?"

The captain shrugged. "Don't know."

Frisk smiled patiently. "Late December. Not long after Christmas, so it would work."

Mary clapped her hands excitedly. "Sounds great!"

"what does?"

The group turned as one to see Sans and Toriel rejoining them in the small circle of lamplight. Toriel looked calmer, sated; the sort of easiness that comes with a hard decision having been made. Sans sidled up to Frisk and gave her a deliberate wink, and Frisk felt her stress drain away. She was staying in tonight. She didn't know how he had managed to convince her mother, but Frisk was extremely grateful.

"THE HUMAN MARY SAYS WE SHOULD CELEBRATE GYFTMAS AND CHRISTMAS TOGETHER!" Papyrus bellowed in excitement. He continued to struggle with his dirty battle body, becoming more flustered with it by the minute, even as he maintained cheery conversation, though it was teetering on the edge.  "WE COULD PLAY GAMES AND SHARE TRADITIONS AND-AND-" He broke off into a frustrated whine, scrabbling his hands frantically over his front. "WHY WILL THIS BRITTLE PEANUT BROWNNESS NOT COME OFF??!!"

"Oh, Papyrus, dear, let me help you."

Toriel stepped forward, wetting one of her thumbs with her mouth before rubbing at the dreadful smudges. Papyrus being fairly close to Toriel's height made the task easier, the lanky skeleton watching in relief as his armor was slowly made pristine once more. He probably didn't appreciate the motherly spit, but...Well, how could he reject such kindness from a queen?

"There. That should do it. Better?"

"MUCH! THANK YOU LADY ASGORE!"

Toriel winced. "Papyrus, my name is Toriel. T o r i e l. Not Lady...Asgore." She said the name with much distaste.

Frisk mentally slumped. She really wished her mother would reconcile with the king. Yes, Asgore had done some pretty...horrible things in the past, but Frisk's own struggle with morality made her more understanding. Forgiveness should be offered to all; it was up to them whether to accept it. Asgore was repentant of his ways, and fully willing to take responsibility for his crimes. In fact, he had told the humans the truth about the humans who had disappeared over the years, those who had fallen down into the Underground, and never returned. Repercussions would surely come of his decisions and actions, but the courts of Ebott had decided that Asgore had acted out of necessity, and that those humans had simply been victims of a war that had never officially been declared ended. The families of those killed had demanded compensation, but had all been willing to set the issue aside until a time later on, when monsters were more or less integrated into human society.

Toriel, to say the least, had made it quite clear that she believed Asgore deserved a far harsher reprimand.

Papyrus broke out in a thin sweat at his slip up, realizing his mistake. "O-OH, YES...I APOLOGIZE, LADY TORIEL."

The queen's expression softened. "It...It is alright, Papyrus. I know you meant no harm." She smiled gently, expressing her forgiveness. Papyrus looked more than just slightly relieved.

"hey." Sans stepped up, expression one of complete ease. "don't you guys gotta be in ebott by, like, eight or something? shouldn't you get a move on?"

"Oh! Heavens!"

Toriel looked at the watch Mary had brought her a few weeks back. It was a cheap thing, one with all its numbers and a cartoon character slapped on the back wall of its glass face. It was probably intended for a child, but Toriel never complained, finding its use valuable. It was too small to fit around her wrist, secured instead to the base of her left thumb. It one wasn't looking at it consciously, it looked more like a ring than a watch.

"We'll be late for the meeting!"

"No, no, we're fine," Mary assured her. "I found a new route to and from town. There's a lot of old dirt roads around here, and I've been doing a bit of exploring. I found one that's still clear of brush and doesn't have too many ruts. It cuts the travel time down by almost fifteen minutes. We're right on schedule. Still, we shouldn't wait too much longer to leave. Maybe ten minutes?"

Toriel nodded, going into that super mom-queen mode that meant any and all fun was officially over and now was the time to take things seriously. "I agree. We should head out." She eyed the still very full truck bed. "How may we assist you, Mary, dear?"

 Mary glanced at her truck tiredly. "Well, I still kind of have a lot to unload. Maybe you could all help with that?" She sent Sans a teasing grin. "That means you too, Socks."

"aw, geez-"

"Alright!" Undyne interrupted enthusiastically. "Let's get this show on the road! There's gonna be a buffet at this meeting an' I'm freak'n hungry!"

Everyone stepped up to start helping unload the truck. The Dogi and Sentries were called back over, along with quite a few volunteers from the dwindling crowd. Many of the monster population had wandered back to their tents, mostly those with tired children, as it was growing late and close to dinner time. But those who remained, a fair two or three hundred, jumped at the opportunity to assist the minute Undyne gave a shout out. It became instantly very crowded around Mary's vehicle, the ropes ignored as they all pressed in, but it was an organized sort of craziness. A line was formed, stretching from Mary's truck all the way back to camp, items passed from one monster to the next as they hurried along their task.

Frisk did what she could, standing at Papyrus's side, passing along the lighter items while the tall skeleton took on the larger objects he knew she wouldn't be able to handle. The compelling excitement of teamwork made the whole thing incredibly enjoyable, monsters calling out good naturedly and laughing as the chore was accomplished with amazing speed.

Huh. Maybe they should do it this way every time, Frisk thought.

Mary had brought a lot with her this trip, which was encouraging. It meant that there was a growing number of humans in the city willing to give things to the monster cause. There were several boxes of canned meats, stews, soups, vegetable, and fruits. Frisk scrambled to clutch a can of sliced pears to her chest, them being one of her favorites. There were multiple long paper bags of Italian bread, though Mary warned they would need to be eaten soon before they got moldy. There were a few boxes of cereal, kind of unhelpful, seeing as milk wasn't something the monsters could keep out in the woods without it spoiling. Though, this time Mary had brought a few bags of  _powdered milk_. She said it was just so they could try it, and if they didn't like it she wouldn't bring it anymore.

The food was all unpacked and carried off to the store tents, where it would later be distributed after being magically infused. That done, it was time to start unloading the other items Mary typically brought with her.

"Let's see what we've got here," she smiled, sitting down at the edge of the tailboard of her truck. She leaned back and pulled a very large box forward with a grunt. "Ooogh, okay." She dug a hand inside, shuffling it about before her smile widened. "Doggo?"

"Mph?" The canine, who Undyne had apparently gone and relieved at some point as Sans had asked, stepped forward, nose twitching and a stubby stalk of grass sticking out from between his fangs.

Mary gently tossed Doggo a pack of fresh cigarettes. Being pretty much blind to anything not in motion, the dog monster most likely only perceived the flying packet as a small white blur, but he made a valiant effort of stumbling forward, fumbling for a few heart-stopping moments before finally getting a firm grip on the pack. Dog treats, or, at least, the kinds Doggo was used to anyway, were nonexistent on the Surface, and Mary had understood his wish to have something to smoke, providing accordingly. Toriel would say, and rightfully so, that smoking was a habit not to be encouraged, but Mary's kindness and thoughtfulness was still very much appreciated. It wasn't like Doggo had physical lungs the smoke could harm, but, still. The smell was unpleasant.

Frisk liked that about Mary, though; how she treated the monsters as equals rather than the victims some of the other volunteers tended to view them as. Yes, it was true, monsters were at a huge disadvantage, unfamiliar with the freedom the Surface provided, but they were far from being completely helpless. They had conformed to the rough life of living out in the woods with impressive adaptive-ness. They carried out their days of patient waiting, foraging, and just living with un-bordered joy and gratefulness. It was commendable. It was more than commendable.

"I tried seeing about getting you a pair of glasses or something," Mary apologized to Doggo, "but you'd need to be tested to figure out just what kind you would need, and I doubt monsters are allowed at the eye doctors' if they aren't even allowed in the city just yet."

Doggo gave a grunt, seeming fine with it. Frisk was secretly glad; Doggo would look ridiculous with glasses. Maybe contacts? Someday?

Mary turned her face toward the second brightest presence among them other than the lamplight. "Grillby?" 

The bartender carefully slipped in between a pair of bear monsters, mindful that his flames didn't set light to their fur.

"This is for you." Mary handed him a neatly folded apron. "It used to be my mom's, but I got her a new one for her birthday. It's like brand new," she added hurriedly, like she was worried Grillby would be offended at receiving a second hand gift. She needn't have been concerned. The fire elemental carefully took the offered article, unfolding it and holding it up in front of himself.

Sans and Frisk both choked on a laugh when they read the dark red lettering across the chest of the apron that spelled out 'Hot Stuff'.

Papyrus groaned, bemoaning the insanity that was his life.

Mary proceeded to pull out all manner of gifts. Naturally, Mary didn't have something for everyone, though she did her best, but those who received nothing still liked to watch, and knew that, at some point, during another visit, they were sure to get something. This time there were a number of sweaters for the monster children, especially those of the more reptilian variety. Nights were getting colder, and the change in weather was harder on those with skin or scales. Frisk was given a sweater too, and Mary had brought a special one for Monster Kid, one that she had cut the arms off of and then sewed up nice and snug.

Mettaton was given a colorful hat. A 'fadora', Mary called it. She claimed it was very stylish, the sort that several famous entertainers had been known for wearing. The restored android donned the accessory with a flourish, receiving a cheer from a number of his present fans.

There were other hats, scarves, thin coats, and other warm clothing passed around, along with more blankets, sheets, and pillows. Some bunny monsters received some straw hats, ones with holes for their ears. Fuku got a new dress. There were a few more packages of candy, the kind that had a lot of little bits in one bag, mostly Candy Corn and Starbursts. Toriel instructed those be hidden until the appropriate time arose to eat them, seeing as a portion of the monster population was currently on a sugar high thanks to the peanut brittle. Frisk wasn't sure exactly who carried out that order, but she hoped they were an honest sort. For their sake.

Papyrus got a small tin of wax, which Mary told him might work well as a polish for his battle body. He was ecstatic.

A good eight minutes had passed since they had all gathered to work together. Frisk could tell Toriel was growing anxious to leave, despite Mary's assurances. Her mother had settled behind Frisk, her large furred hands on the child's shoulders. Frisk tipped her head back against Toriel's stomach and grinned encouragingly, arms full with her new navy sweater and her can of sliced pears.

Everyone finished up just as the impressive form of Asgore ambled into sight, Alphys skittering beside him, fidgeting nervously as they conversed in soft tones. Frisk knew the two tended to have long, intense conversations before any meeting in the city, results of being king and Royal Scientist. Alphys had been lucky to have been allowed to keep that title, what with her coming out with the truth about the Amalgamates. All had been forgiven, obviously, with only a few slight hangups, and it wasn't like anyone else would be able to take her place. Sans, maybe, but he had seemed oddly adamant about not being given that responsibility. It  might have been laziness, but Frisk felt there was more to it than that.

Alphys sidled up the side of Mary's truck, greeting the young woman with a shaky smile. She was dressed in one of the pretty little sun dresses Mary had brought her once, though she had a thin jacket tied around her sizable waist, ready to be used once she truly grew chilled. She kept pushing her glasses further up on her long, snout-like nose. With all the stuttering she did, the spectacles tended to jitter their way down its length every other sentence.

"H-H-Hi, M-Mary."

Mary smiled sweetly. "Hello, Alphys. How are you today?"

"G-Good. Are you c-coming to the m-meeting with us this t-time?"

Mary shook her head. "No. I've given it some thought, and I just don't think I'm the type to enjoy sitting in on politics. I appreciate the offer, but for now I think I'll just stick to driving you guys back and forth."

Toriel patted her shoulder, kindly, but also a little impatient. A silent 'hurry up' gesture. "That is alright, dear. No one here blames you in the least. Meetings can be...quite dull."

"But they're important," Undyne cut in, tossing a final empty box into a pile to their left. The cardboard would be used to start campfires all around the monster encampment. "What we're working out with Drayson Hills and the others is big stuff. It's going to mean a lot in the long run. Especially in relation to Monster Rights and settling out of these woods."

Asgore nodded his big head, horns catching in the lamplight. "That may not be for some time," he reminded Undyne gently, "but it is good that things have been moving forward smoothly, however slowly." He tilted his head to Mary in greeting. "Are we about ready to leave?"

"Yup! You guys can start climbing in. You know the routine of who sits where."

They did. Alphys always sat up front with Mary, as did Frisk, usually. Undyne, Papyrus, Toriel, and Asgore all typically crammed into the back of the truck bed. It was a tight fit, and the extreme weight tended to make the old vehicle groan terribly. But practice had spawned skill, and they had all figured out how to balance the weight, keeping the truck from tipping or, as one instance had resulted in, keeping the front wheels from rearing clear off the ground. It meant Toriel and Asgore sitting as close to the front as possible, with Undyne and Papyrus perched in the remaining space.

Probably the furthest thing from safe, but necessary. And Mary said the police in the city knew enough not to pull them over, understanding the reasons behind the breech in road safety protocol. There were not really many options open to lugging full grown monsters from place to place.

Mary grabbed the lantern from the back of her truck, making room and making sure the oil lamp wouldn't become a fire hazard if it got accidentally knocked over. She handed the lantern to Frisk, hooking the metal handle over her only free finger, giving her hair a final ruffle. Frisk's brown cut wasn't as wet anymore, the air having started to dry it naturally.

"You be good," Mary ordered gently. "And I'll see you next time, alright? And have fun with Sans." She sent the skeleton a kind smile, as though in appreciation for the effort he had given to ensure Frisk a bit of rest.

"Alright," Frisk sniffed, giving Mary a hug with her shoulder, seeing as her arms were full. She felt a little choked up, knowing that this was the last time she would see Mary this run. But she couldn't be allowed to let her sorrow show. No one would understand. How could they?

Undyne frowned, confused by the heartfelt goodbye. "Wait, wait, wait. Frisk isn't coming?"

"nope," Sans spoke up before Frisk could dredge up an answer. "kiddo's staying here with me tonight. she needs a little break, you know?"

"Huh." Undyne looked surprisingly pleased. "Good. Well, you two punks behave."

"don't we always?"

"Pfft. We wish."

Undyne turned and hopped up into the back of Mary's truck with all the ease of taking a staircase two steps at a time. Asgore and Toriel had already eased themselves in, pressed close and obviously uncomfortable about it. The truck had lowered closer to the ground under all that added weight. Mary was going to have to drive carefully, bewaring any potholes or large rocks, so as not to bottom out on the journey.

Mary hugged Frisk back, doing most of the work, before she stood back up straight and turned to Sans, offering him her knuckles. "See you later, Socks," she smirked. "Try to stay out of mischief."

Sans chuckled, pressing his far bonier knuckles against hers in answer. "what is this? does everyone think i'm some sort of party animal? i'm like the lamest monster ever."

Frisk didn't like it when Sans did that; when he referred to himself so demeaningly. It seemed to bother Mary too, because her smile waned just a little before she forced it back in place. "Hey, before I go, I've got something for you."

Sans blinked, honestly surprised. "you...do, huh?"

"Yup. Just a sec." Mary stepped over to her truck, bending down to access her backpack, which had been set down by the rear left tire, out of sight in the shadows. There was the sharp sound of a zipper unzipping, and then she was stepping back over toward the pair. "It's not a big present really, but I saw them and just had to get them for you."

Sans frowned. "wait, 'get them'? you mean you actually bought me something? mare, seriously, you didn't have to-"

"I know." Mary smiled gently. "It's just...I saw them, like I said, and they were just so you, you know? And, well...I wanted you to know you were worth it." She blushed, an action that Frisk noticed Sans echoed in kind. It was frankly extremely adorable. Alphys, off to the side and waiting to climb into the front with Mary, seemed to think so, if the soft coo was anything to go by.

Softer, and sinking down into his hood, Sans murmured, "ya really didn't have to do that..."

"I wanted to." Mary took her hand out from behind her back, holding the unwrapped present. "Here. I hope you like them. I pride myself on being good at buying people gifts, but...Well, let's just say you're not the easiest guy to read."

Sans blinked, slowly extending both un-pocketed hands to accept...a package of star-themed socks. Even in the lamplight Frisk could make out the various designs; swirling galaxies, shooting stars, colorful planets, and spacey patterns with little cartoon rockets. They were very detailed, obviously not cheap dollar store socks, but the kind of thing you might find in a gift shop somewhere.

Sans was speechless.

The charity worker grinned wider at Sans's stunned expression.

"Maybe it's a little silly," Mary admitted, "but my brother once took me up to the Newbrache Space Observatory and he bought me a pack of these." She tapped the bag as Sans held it reverently in his hands. "They meant the world to me, because it was something he and I used to do, just the two of us, when we had time before Greg left for the military. And when Frisk told me you liked astronomy," she sent Frisk a shy smile, "I just knew I had to get you the same collection of fashionable footwear." She turned back to Sans, watching him closely, a little bit of uncertainty slipping into her smile. "You, uh...okay with that, Sans?"

The fact that she used his real name seemed to snap the skeleton out of his shock. He glanced up, taking Mary in like he was trying to read her expression and, for once, wasn't quite succeeding. "the newbrache space observatory?" he repeated, disbelieving. "but that's-"

"Three hours away," Mary finished for him, nodding. "Yup. But it was worth it. You want to know why?"

"...why?"

She poked him gently in the sternum, her voice lowering so that the other curious monsters in the vicinity, who were clearly trying to listen in on their conversation, wouldn't be able to hear. Frisk, however, heard every word, and Mary seemed fine with that.

"Because, while I love every single monster in this camp, you were the one who reached out and helped me adapt. Without you, I'd have been too shy to keep this all up. I would have done that one-time delivery and then shied off to do my own thing, but it was you who welcomed me in. You sort of...remind me of Greg. The way we joke. The way you make me laugh. And I...just wanted to get you something to convey just how much that means to me." She blushed again, nodding to the socks. "So. Do you like them? Or do I need to exchange it for something that expresses my gratitude a little better?" she smiled.

There was a beat of silence, in which Sans looked up at Mary and, for perhaps the first time in a very long time, Frisk saw his defenses lower. A real, genuine grin spread across his face, and there was the slightest of shaking in his hands. His voice, when he spoke, was calm and controlled, with only the very minutest of a waver in it. Frisk could tell this meant a lot to him.

"these," he said slowly, grin growing wider by the minute, "...are  _out of this world._ "

"SANS, OH MY GOD!"

Well, apparently they hadn't been talking soft enough.

Sans chuckled. "so, what you're saying is, i'm like a brother to you?"

Mary rolled her eyes, giving him the lightest of shoves. "Yeah, Yeah; don't make it weird." She then pulled him into a hug, squeezing him just enough that his jacket bunched up beneath her arms, Frisk catching a glimpse of spine as his clothing rode up a little. "See you next time, Socks," she farewelled warmly.

Sans shyly reciprocated. "i'll be here."

The young woman pulled back and tapped the package again. "And you better be wearing one of these next time I see you, or I'll be highly offended."

"wouldn't want that."

"You  _bet_  you don't." She laughed, turning to walk to the front of her truck, sweeping up her backpack as she did so.

"You will both be alright?" Toriel whispered as Frisk and Sans moved a bit closer to say goodbye, the Boss Monster leaning over the truck bed's side to peer at them with worried, magenta eyes. "You have enough to eat?"

Sans gave her his most reassuring smile and gave Frisk a light tickle in her side. She giggled and gently pushed away from him with a squawk. "we'll be just fine, tori. it's not like this is the first time i've held down the fort while you all headed out on business. have'n the kiddo here will only improve things."

"Yes, I know," Toriel mused, not looking the least bit assured. "But this is different...We will be out so very late, and-"

"tori?"

"...Yes, my friend?"

Sans allowed genuine fondness to further his words. "we'll be fine," he said again. Frisk reached out and entwined her fingers with his, trying to help convey his point. He gripped back, just as gently, pulling her a little closer to his side. "in fact, i think we'll have a real buddy-buddy camp out night tonight, right, kid?"

Frisk beamed. "Yup!"

"so no worries," Sans continued, returning his gaze to Toriel's own. "you guys go do what you got to do. we'll be right here when you get back."

Toriel's expression softened, a tender smile and moist eyes replacing the concern of before. She reached out with one of her massive paws, running a few fingers against the side of Sans's bony jaw. It was an oddly personal gesture, or so Frisk had thought the first time she had seen her mother do so, but she had quickly learned that it was simply the queen's way of showing care and gratitude to those that meant a lot to her. Monsters as a whole were very intimate creatures, showing emotion through touch and action. It was another odd thing that set Sans apart, since he seemed to steer away from the norm, at least to the same extent the other monsters did. He allowed touch, but initiated it rarely.

Sans blushed a faint cyan, barely visible again beneath the flexible bone of his cheeks, probably feeling somewhat undeserving of being one of the chosen few Toriel truly trusted.

"...Thank you, my friend."

"no problem, tori."

Toriel sat back into the truck, leaving the two and resettling beside Asgore. She didn't give the king so much as a glance, but her stiffness, and the overall coldness of her magic, told all that she was still fairly frigid in relation to him. It was rather sad to witness, though, at the same time, no one blamed her for her judgmental attitude, not even Asgore himself. Though there was always hope, Frisk supposed.

The minute Toriel pulled away Frisk elbowed the still blushing Sans in the ribs, lightly, of course, so as not to hurt him. Sans jolted, blush brightening as he turned and took in Frisk smirking expression.

"kid. don't."

"You're getting a lot of attention tonight," she teased in a whisper.

"yeah. great." A sudden thought struck him and he gave an amused snort, smirking. "if undyne comes at me asking for a hug, though, i swear i'm moving back to snowdin."

"Not a chance, short stack," Undyne growled from the truck bed.

Sans shrugged, tucking his hands into his pockets and trying hard to ignore the embarrassment he was still trying to fight against. Quietly, so that only Frisk could hear, he mumbled, "m'just not used to people being so...touchy...when it comes to their affections."

Frisk found that extremely sad. Sans, and skeleton monsters in general, were not hard and pointy like one would expect them to be. Their bones were malleable, almost soft, with an underlying hardness beneath. Calcium rods encased in something more giving. It was what allowed the skeleton brothers' faces to be so expressive, Sans's in particular. It made them almost cuddly in nature, pleasant to hug, the surface of their bones smooth but warm.

To think that Sans was so unused to being held or coddled that he would feel uncomfortable by even Toriel's gentle care, was worrying.

"But what about Papyrus?" Frisk asked, frowning. "He hugs you all the time."

Sans nodded, seeming to understand her confusion. "that's different. that's papyrus. i meant...people other than family."

A family of two.

Something tight and firm twitched in Frisk's heart. She re-entwined her fingers with Sans's. She looked into his gaze, into those little pricks of light that shown so brightly in the darkening world around them. "We _are_ family," she insisted firmly.

Sans smiled, but it was a strained, forced kind of smile; the kind he used when he wasn't being entirely truthful. He carefully extricated himself from Frisk's hold, resorting to ruffling her hair again instead.

"of course...of course we are, kiddo."

Frisk frowned, but, before she could ask what he meant, Sans was swept up in a blur of lanky bones and red scarf. Frisk backed away, allowing Papyrus room to swing a startled Sans in a circle before the younger skeleton brother pulled the older into a nearly bone-crushing embrace.

"FAREWELL, BROTHER! BE GOOD WHILE WE'RE GONE AND DO  _NOT_ ANNOY ANYONE WITH YOUR PUNS OR BET ANY MONEY AGAINST THE DOGS! YOU KNOW THEY ALWAYS WIN."

"ghn!" Sans grunted, face buried in Papyrus's chest and finger bones clinging to his brother's sides for dear life. Papyrus seemed to gain control of his excitement and immediately reduced his hold on his brother, a hint of concern in his expression. Sans gave a cough and a chuckle as he was gently set back on his feet. "easy, paps...giving me hugs like that, you're gonna end up breaking one of my ribs."

Papyrus looked truly repentant, kneeling down to look Sans over. "OH, SANS, I'M SO SORRY! ARE YOU HURT? DID I-"

Sans waved away his brother's worry. "nah, bro. m'fine. just took me by surprise is all. my ribs are fine. i mean, it's not like i have a rib to  _spare_."

Papyrus nodded, then froze, a suspicious gleam in his sockets. "YOUR TONE SUGGESTS THAT YOU ARE MAKING A JOKE."

"maybe."

"A PUN, NO LESS."

"maaaaaybe."

"I AM DISGUSTED."

"really? i thought you were papyrus."

"UGHHHHHH! SANS!"

"alright, alright. sorry, bro." Sans indicated the truck with his skull. "don't you think you better climb back aboard? ya don't wanna get left behind."

"AH. YES. TRUE." Papyrus glanced behind him, realizing this to be so, before he shifted his attention to Frisk. "GOODBYE, HUMAN FRISK. PLEASE TAKE CARE OF MY TROUBLESOME BROTHER, WILL YOU?" He sent Sans another glare, but Frisk could feel the playfulness beneath it.

Frisk smiled. "You can count on me, Papyrus."

The skeleton patted Frisk on the head, gave a final warning look to his brother, and then climbed up into the truck bed with the others. Undyne pulled him rather roughly into the spot beside her, trapping him in a headlock and giving him a merciless noogie. His indignant shriek of distress echoed far and wide.

Mary laughed, then opened the driver's side door of her truck and half climbed in, pausing to shout out a loud, "Goodbye everyone!" To which several monsters still nearby happily returned, Sans and Frisk among them. The young woman swung down into the driver's seat, shut the door with a rusty slam and started the vehicle's engine, dust and exhaust prompting Sans and Frisk to take a few steps back, along with Doggo and the remaining sentries and monster volunteers.

"Good bye, my child!"

"See you later, punks!"

"BE GOOD, SANS!"

Sans and Frisk, standing side by side, chuckled as they waved, calling back their own, albeit softer parting words.

Frisk waved with a trace of sadness in her movements until the truck was out of sight, gone in a kick up of tan dirt and exhaust, overstuffed with monsters hanging on for dear life. During the beginnings of their arrival on the Surface, Frisk had attended all the meetings that had been set up religiously. She had felt it was her duty to ensure all proceedings went well and were fair. Her testimony had been crucial to the future of human and monster relations, and her story was an account that she had told over and over and over again; until all who  _could_  hear it,  _had_. Now, no one wanted a little girl involved in the negotiations, other than as the very symbol of the cause itself. And while Frisk was honored to wear that title, she would be lying if she said staying behind tonight didn't feel... _amazing_.

Frisk turned slightly as the truck moved from sight, and the other monsters began heading back to camp. She wanted to see Sans's reaction, not quite knowing what she would find.

She had never been among those left behind during a meeting before, whereas Sans was left behind all the time. In fact, since their arrival on the Surface, Sans had probably only attended a grand total of two or three meetings, and those only shortly after their freedom was gained. Not because he wasn't welcome, necessarily, but because he wasn't...needed.

Frisk was the ambassador, Asgore was the king, Toriel was the queen, Undyne and Papyrus served as bodyguards, and Alphys was the Royal Scientist. Each of them served a definite purpose in the politics that surrounded the human-monster proceedings. Sans...He served no purpose. He was well liked, funny, and apparently just as good with science as Alphys, but his position as a 'lazy, apathetic sentry', as Undyne had once tried to say kindly -  _tried_  - had resulted in him not being chosen for negotiation work. Not that he had ever wanted to.  Sans had brushed the whole thing off; said he wasn't really built for that kind of a job, and the others had all cautiously agreed.

So much had happened since the Barrier fell.

Humanity had been...well,  _surprised,_ to say the least, to find that the stories of myth and legend were true; that monsters were real and had been lying trapped beneath the Surface of the mountain for...centuries. It had been a shock, and not all around a  _good_  shock either.

The first humans they came across after the breaking of the Barrier, unfortunately, had been a handful of drunks; a group of five men that had driven some broken down pickup truck out into the forest for a good time away from the city. They had been sitting there, laughing and guzzling from beer cans, when Papyrus had burst into the clearing before anyone could stop him, his arms outstretched in greeting and a dazzling smile gracing his bony features. The humans had taken one look at his skeletal appearance and  _freaked_. Shrieking curses that had made even Undyne blanch, they had thrown their drinks at the startled monster, stumbling over each other in their race to climb into their vehicle and tear away, leaving only a cloud of road dust and a very confused Papyrus in their wake. Frisk could never be sure, but those men must have told one frightening tale back in the city, because a day or so later, a forest ranger had shown up, probably expecting to find some kind of sickly, scraggly creature that grown men, albeit drunk, might have mistaken for a skeleton.

_Her_  reaction...had been little better.

Within a week, Ebott's authorities and the military had been contacted. They showed up at the monsters' camp - back when it had only consisted of those closest to Frisk - guns in hand and fear glistening in their wide eyes. Toriel had cried out, rising hurriedly to her feet and pulling Frisk with her as she backed away, Undyne and Asgore moving to stand between them and the danger. Sans had done something similar with Alphys and Papyrus, though Frisk had only just been aware of it. The tension between monster and humankind, that had existed for so long, had stretched between the two parties; both staring at one another with wide gazes and trembling breaths. It was at that moment that Frisk had realized her job of freeing monsterkind was far from over.

Taking a deep breath, and sending Toriel a reassuring smile, she had slipped her hand from the Boss Monster's mitt and moved to stand between them all; monster and human alike.

"Hi," she had said, or something like it. "My name is Frisk, and these..." She had turned slightly, smiling at the assembly of six in a way that portrayed all the love she held for them. "These are my friends."

That had been it. That had been all she had needed to say. Not that the tension had all instantly bled away, of course; far from it. The soldiers had blinked, as though they hadn't seen her until that moment, sending nervous glances between Frisk and the creatures behind her. And then, one by one, the guns had lowered, because no true soldier - even a human one - with even a single spark of good in their soul, would point a weapon at a harmless, defenseless child. Frisk had fixed them with as patient a smile as she could muster, explaining in a calm and quiet voice everything she could about her adventures in the Underground. Of what -  _who_  - she had found there, and what she had done to help them. And everyone -  _everyone -_  had listened.

Days of inquiries turned into weeks, with all kinds of important people showing up in camp to ask questions, not only of Frisk, but also of the monsters. That is, of course, once the humans had gotten over the extreme shock that Toriel, Asgore, Alphys, Undyne, and even Papyrus and Sans  _could_ , in fact, talk for themselves, and ina language they could understand. As time went on, and governors, captains, congressmen, and even priests had been given time to speak with the monsters, less and less questions were asked of Frisk and more and more were asked of Toriel and Asgore, who were the ones who generally answered for their group. Which was fine; Frisk hadn't particularly enjoyed all the attention.

Not that Frisk's friends had felt all that comfortable either, what with the way their every word was recorded and doubtless broadcasted through the media to every corner of the globe. The pressure was intense, to know that every word and action would either build up their case for freedom, or tear down their every chance. As things had been, Frisk hadn't been quite able to help the feelings of concern she had held over how humanity was treating her makeshift little family. Humanely enough, she had supposed, as various things were explained and matters sorted, but Frisk had still felt a small twinge of shame on her species' behalf, even if she hadn't been able to put her finger on why. Undyne had worded it pretty plainly, however; commenting that they had felt like some kind of 'freak show' that the world insisted on  _seeing,_  and  _poking,_  and  _exploring_. Historians and scientists had been called in by the dozens, some of them entranced, others skeptical;  _all_  of them curious. Examinations had been requested by the human government to ensure that monsters carried no serious diseases that could endanger the human race. What they had found, of course, was that monsters went against everything  _their_  science deemed possible. Questions were raised, and Asgore and Alphys had attempted to answer them to the best of their ability. Even then, the scientists eyed them all with peaked curiosity and wariness.

The concept of magic had scared the humans at first, which hadn't been much of a surprise; but when Asgore had agreed to them all keeping their powers to a minimum, things had gone on a little more smoothly. Humanity tended to fear things they didn't understand. Not showing the full potential of what monsters could do with magic had seemed to be a good idea, and it was an order Asgore had quickly urged their little group to follow.

No magic was to be used in a human's presence, unless that human happened to be Frisk, or someone they equally trusted. Like Mary.

When it had been learned that six monsters was not the extent of the mountain's population, but  _hundreds upon hundreds_ , the meetings had intensified. At first, Frisk had played a large part in those gatherings, but as time passed, and the tale of her adventures had been told and retold a thousand times over, she was no longer needed. A child, 'ambassador' though she may be, she was rarely wanted in matters of government. Toriel and Asgore had graciously taken over, and, in all honesty, Frisk was glad.

And so it had gone. Meeting after meeting; talk after talk. Sometimes headway had been made, other times Toriel and Asgore's ears seemed to droop and a haunted fear from a war long gone had shone in their eyes. A fear that another war might be inevitable if monsters were not allowed to return to the Surface without a fight.

But humanity, for all its faults, eventually came through. An influential fellow, a man with a pleasant face by the name of Drayson Hills, had spoken up and insisted that if monsters could think, act, imagine, and  _feel_ like any human, than they should have the same rights as any human. Had Asgore, or Toriel, or even Undyne said that, it would have been dismissed, but because the conclusion had been reached by a member of human society - Well. That had changed everything. The novelty of that little speech had tossed the city of Ebott, and perhaps the whole world, into moral chaos. In an existence were inequality and racial barriers were supposed to be a slowly fading problem, mankind was then faced with a serious question:

Did that moral standard include monsters, or not?

It had quickly been determined, by a fair portion of the earth's population, that yes, it was morally right to at least  _strive_  for that peace and equality. Many people had come to care for the gentle and weary faces of the monsters they saw on the news, and a loud cry for continued negotiations had immediately followed Drayson Hills' radical declaration. The remaining percentage, like with any truly worthy cause, had opposed the idea with rage, prejudice, and hate. But hope for a somewhat mystical future, one of humans and monsters living together in peace, quickly overcame the more negative protesters. A temporary treaty was quickly signed, as well as some conditions for both parties to keep in check. The rest of monsterkind were then invited to rise to the Surface, working together to build the temporary encampment they now inhabited.

Things were still far from ideal. Monsters, other than those summoned for meetings, were not allowed to visit the nearby city of Ebott. Monsterkind was asked to remain in the wilderness until further negotiations for Monster Rights could be worked out and approved. It promised to be a long process, so no one planned on moving anytime soon. Life had settled into a somewhat mundane routine, days crawling into weeks, which, in turn, moseyed into months. Two of them. In which every day was pretty much like the last.

Frisk was discouraged by the fact so much work had been put into this run, this  _life_ , and yet Chara would be stripping it all away in a blink of an eye, later that night. Using her to do it.

It was really...such a terrible waste.

As Frisk and Sans were left standing on the far east side of camp, nearly alone now that Mary had left and everyone else were dispersing, Frisk took in her friend's expression. He was smiling, his barriers back firmly in place after the whole exchange with Mary and Toriel. He still clutched the package of star-themed socks, close to his chest, like he was afraid they might disappear. His gaze was still fixed on the fading tail lights of Mary's truck, a mix of relief and stoic sadness morphed behind that mask of his.

It must be hard for him, Frisk imagined, being left behind while the others all piled into Mary's truck and went off to make a difference. How many times had she herself looked back from her place in the front seat, glancing back at the short, lonely looking figure in the side view mirror? Not enough times, apparently, because that expression on his face was foreign. Sans couldn't be worried about their safety, not with him knowing Mary would take extra care along the way to keep his family from bouncing out, but as an older brother Frisk supposed he was still entitled to a soul flutter of minimal anxiety.

Wasn't that what families did? Feel concern over one another? Worry, love, and a healthy dose of understanding.

Frisk could feel the love and worry well enough, she was practically smothered in it each and every day, but the understanding could use a little work between them all. Sans's odd, almost empty acceptance of being left behind proved that.

"well...i guess it's officially sans-and-frisk-hang-out-time," Sans chuckled softly as the dust disturbed from the truck resettled into dark night once again. The skeleton grinned, turning to look down at her with fondness and giving her a lazy wink. "whatchya wanna do, kiddo?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The show that Mary is talking about is Star Trek: Discovery, a show that my family currently watches together every Thursday night. Yes. Yes, I am a Star Trek fanatic. ;)


	5. It's Only A Paper Moon

When Sans had said earlier that he had a 'pretty active social life', he hadn't been joking.

Frisk watched curiously as Sans leaned over and rubbed his bare hands in the soil at his feet. It was a dark, moist kind of dirt, the kind Asgore had told Frisk was good for planting flowers. As the skeleton proceeded to muck up his hands, making sure the dark earth got between each of his fingers, Frisk gave him a questioning look.

They were back in the center of the monster encampment, the seemingly endless stretch of tents and campfires spreading out from them in all directions like a fabric and fire patchwork quilt. A few clouds had rolled in, blotting out sections of the starry night sky, and with them had come a more present chill in the air. Sans had stopped off at Frisk and Toriel's tent, helping Frisk finish drying her hair and encouraging her to slip on that navy blue sweater Mary had given her. Frisk had done so gladly, and since she had her shivering had diminished greatly. That, and they had moved close to one of the many bonfires. Mary and her passengers had left a little over half an hour ago, and Frisk was somewhat stunned by just how much she and Sans had done in the meantime.

The Dogs had hunted them down almost the moment they had started wandering back to camp from the far east side. Sans, apparently, had expressed his interest in joining in on their game of cards, and the canines had been more than welcoming. Frisk was invited along at Sans's insistence, and the Dogs hadn't seemed to mind, and before she knew it they were all seated around a large, empty crate by one of the largest fires in camp, warm and toasty with Doggo shuffling up the old, worn playing cards. It was supposedly a full deck, and Dogaressa had counted to make sure; a mix of well-used cards from the dump in Waterfall and a newer deck Mary had brought them. The older cards, dirty, bent, and in some instances slightly torn, the monsters considered 'lucky cards', and coveted them as something extremely valuable. It reminded Frisk of how children she had known, before her fall into the Underground, used to play with marbles. Cards were traded or won from one another, with favorites held in high regard. Many monsters had them. Dogamy, for example, was in possession of a badly worn three of hearts, Doggo owned a half of a queen of spades, and Lesser flaunted a grand total of two lucky cards, a two of hearts and a three of spades.

Sans, naturally, owned a joker card, covered in water stains and almost too dirty with fingerprints to recognize.

Frisk continued to watch as Sans lifted his now very soiled hands from the dirt, frowning deeper as the skeleton rubbed the damp earth in further. It was just such an odd thing to witness, something so completely uncanny, that Frisk simply had to ask what in the world he was doing. To which Sans, with a small, almost cackling chuckle finally explained.

"the dirt's so i can hold the cards better," he offered with a smile. "smooth bone plus smooth cards makes for some slippery consequences. with a bit of grit on my hands, i don't have to worry so much about something falling out of my grip and into plain sight of the other players."

Doggo gave a grousing huff. "Was great playing with him until he figured that out. At least then we had a better chance of winning."

Sans sent the canine a grin. "are you saying that in a card game, i can  _deck_ you?" Somehow, Doggo's nonplussed expression only succeeded in spurring Sans on. "i mean, i'll admit, when it comes to cards, i'm an  _ace_ , but you don't have to  _cut_  yourself short."

The dog monster growled warningly, and Frisk almost fell over laughing.

As it turned out, Doggo won two out of six games, which he seemed to take as a fantastic victory, with Dogaressa winning one, and Sans winning the remaining three games. The canines had wanted to start betting half way through, but, with a prompting frown from Frisk, Sans had quickly reminded them that the queen had insisted no betting was to take place, not even for treats. The Dogs' ears had all drooped, but they had all complied, and before long they were too involved in the game to care.

It was getting rather late by the time they all called it quits. Frisk had started coughing discreetly from the smell of Doggo's new cigarettes, and Sans had taken notice, finishing his hand before gracefully declining another game.

"gotta get the kiddo some eats," had been his excuse, to which the Dogs all nodded in agreement, apparently reminded of their own hunger.

Sans had helped clean things up, making sure to find and safely pocket his joker card before allowing Frisk to slip her hand in his, the two heading toward the northern fringe of the encampment, where Sans and Papyrus's tent resided.

As they went, Frisk saw a lot of monsters sitting around various campfires. Their meals already finished, many had slipped into any number of their after dinner activities. Frisk could hear low, gentle voices coming from tents; story tellers trying to lull their children to sleep. There were even a few lullabies drifting on the cool breeze. Older monsters sat by their fires, some knitting, some whittling, others drifting off to sleep in the warmth of the fire's flames. Some read books they had brought from the Underground, worn things with dog-eared pages and worn leather bindings.

Sans and Papyrus had been housed, as was the usual, with a number of other monsters, most of which were also from Snowdin. Counting the two skeletons, their tent contained a total of nine monsters instead of the maximum ten, the reason being because two of the monsters, who Frisk had learned were named Gift Bear and Politics Bear, where far larger than most, and therefore required more space. The remaining tenants consisted of a bipedal deer-like monster named Faun, the bunny Snowdin Inn Keeper and her daughter, Rabbit Kid, and the somewhat strange and mysterious Nacarat Jester. Sans said they all got along well enough, and it wasn't like they were folks he didn't know, so it wasn't too uncomfortable.

Frisk and Sans came to a halt just outside the tent, Sans motioning for Frisk to pause, before he gently rapped his bony knuckles against the metal pole that held up the front end of the tent. The canvas flaps were down, so Frisk couldn't see inside, but seeing as the tent was lit she supposed there was probably someone, or multiple someones, within.

"knock knock." Sans's voice rang out gently in time with the almost musical ring of solid bone on hollow silver metal. There was only the slightest hesitation before a voice answered.

"Sans, we're too  _tired_  for your  _stupid_   _puns_."

Frisk was slightly taken aback by the harshness of the answering tone, and snapped her gaze up to Sans to see how he would respond. Instead of the hurt or annoyance most would have displayed, Sans only looked more eager, his grin spreading wider across his face.

"aw, come on, pb...can't you  _bear_  to hear a few?"

"Don't you dare-"

"you got to be a bar- _bear_ -rian to not like puns, man."

"Sans. Stop."

"but i've  _bear_ ly even started."

There was a heavy, defeated sigh, and then the flaps to the tent opened and Frisk's eyes widened as she took a cautious step back. A huge bear monster loomed over Sans menacingly, dwarfing him in height and bulk. As a human, Frisk couldn't sense intent, but she knew Sans could, and Frisk bit her lip uneasily as Sans remained as he was, not moving an inch, but looking incredibly proud of himself. She figured, had the larger monster meant him any harm, Sans would have already blipped out of the way. The fact that he hadn't, and that he looked relaxed and perfectly at ease, told Frisk this bear monster was harmless.

Sans had called him 'PB'...Must be Politics Bear. Frisk wasn't much acquainted with him yet.

PB looked down at Sans with a completely unimpressed expression, his gaze piercing down the length of his own snout and deep into the eye lights of the shorter. "...Are you done?" he asked snappishly.

Sans shrugged, keeping his gaze fixed with the other's. It was almost like some weird staring contest. "that depends."

"...On what?"

"on whether everyone's decent in there or not."

PB looked confused. "...Decent? I don't-"

"you know," Sans interrupted, and Frisk could tell, just by his tone, that he was about to hammer home a final pun. "don't wanna walk in on anyone when their... _bear_  naked."

The look of total loathing that slowly manifested on PB's face was just so comical, Frisk couldn't contain herself. She burst out laughing, hands wrapping around her middle as she teetered on her feet, completely overcome by the hilarity of it all. She knew the two monsters were now looking over at her, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Sans's interactions with people always tended to border along anything remotely teasing; it was like he was in a constant state of goading others to some reaction or other. For some, like Frisk's mother, it was to make them laugh, while for others, like Papyrus, Undyne, and apparently PB, it was meant as a form of somewhat mischievous entertainment. Frisk wasn't sure which she found more amusing.

PB stared a moment at the giggling Frisk, before he returned his eyes to Sans. "I thought the ambassador had a meeting tonight. Why is she here with you?"

"it was concluded that the kiddo could really use a break from things, so tori- er, i mean the queen, decided to let her stay in camp tonight. so, naturally, i'm babysitting."

"Naturally." PB frowned. "And you came here because...?"

Sans chuckled. "well, we didn't exactly have supper yet. we don't have to stay here if you're in the middle of something or other, but i'd appreciate it if i could get to my and papyrus's store chest, if you don't mind." His voice hardened just slightly, a very gentle warning. "this is sorta  _my_  home too, buddy, don't forget."

Frisk winced. She had found bear monsters to be terribly...territorial. They were kind enough, gentle enough, but they tended to like their space. Sharing a tent with two of them, and six other monsters of varying kinds, had to be challenging at times, especially when both Sans and Papyrus, in their own special ways, had little to no sense of personal boundaries. Papyrus was almost overwhelmingly friendly, and Sans liked to push people to see what would happen, though he did know, usually, when to stop. Frisk couldn't really blame PB for being a little upset.

Maybe that was why Sans hadn't just walked in unannounced.

PB still looked very annoyed. Frisk, who had stopped laughing, now wondered if Sans's approach to this whole conversation might have resulted with them receiving no dinner. PB did not own the tent, by any means. He technically couldn't keep them from entering, but he looked to be in a very foul mood, and he was physically taking up the entire tent entrance. He would have to move in order for them to pass, and if he was annoyed, he would definitely be less likely to do so. Sans might have pushed his luck a little this time.

The skeleton cocked his head to the side, staring up at PB with a searching expression, before it morphed into something a little more concerned. "uh...is...something going on in there?" Sans asked cautiously, some seriousness bleeding into his tone.

The bear monster held his gaze, trying to determine whether it was worth answering or not. But then he said, "...There is."

Sans looked uneasy. "...bad?"

PB gave a shrug, stiff and awkward compared to the ones Sans usually gave. "Mm. More or less."

"what happened?"

The bear finally stepped aside. "See for yourself. Oh, and you might want to hide those."

He indicated the package of star-themed socks sticking out of Sans's coat pocket. Sans looked confused, but didn't argue. He reached down and shoved the socks further into his pocket, out of sight, lost in the natural bulk of his jacket's material.

Frisk followed Sans into the tent, allowing the skeleton to take the lead and making sure to skirt around PB carefully, giving the large monster his space.

The tent was darker than the one Frisk shared with Toriel, Alphys, Undyne, and a few others. There were lanterns hanging from hoops in the canvas ceiling, like in all the others, but a few seemed to be missing, leaving one end of the tent in shadow. There were nine cots - No. Actually, there were twelve; three sets had been placed in pairs to account for the bear monsters' larger size - much like how Toriel had been forced to do in their own tent - and for the Inn Keeper to share with their daughter. Frisk could instantly tell which two belonged to Sans and Papyrus; Sans's being unmade and cluttered with all manner of things, whereas Papyrus's was clean and made to the point of obsession. The other cots and their prospective sections were all somewhere in between.

There were other monsters in the tent. Faun and Nacarat sat on one of the cots together, playing what seemed to be a game of checkers, though the board was really only a piece of cardboard they had colored and sectioned with chalk, and the playing pieces were pebbles and acorns. They looked up as Sans and Frisk entered, both giving the two a smile before going back to their game, though, Frisk thought she caught them both glancing toward the far back of the tent.

"where are the others?" Sans asked PB quietly.

"Out. Just us...and the kid."

At first, Frisk thought PB meant her, but as her eyes adjusted to the lanterns and the odd, hazy glow of the indoors of the tent, she realized there was another figure among them, sitting on a cot in the shadows, back turned to them.

Rabbit Kid?

Frisk knew them, moderately, but it was hard having so many new friends; it was hard to keep in touch with so many and keep all their names straight. Even the resets hadn't given her an infallible memory.

"He's been moping and sniffling ever since we all came back from the far east side. Something's got his ears all in a twist. I'd...help him, you know," the bear said a little more softly. "But I ain't...really all that good with kids."

Sans nodded. Sending Frisk a weak yet encouraging smile, he stuck his hands in his pockets and slowly made his way forward. Frisk started to follow, but PB very gently stopped her with a large paw in front of her chest. She looked up at him questioningly, then back at Sans.

"Let him handle this, little one," the bear rumbled lowly. "He may be a nuisance with his confounded puns and jokes, but...he has a way with young 'uns."

Frisk blinked, then gave a single nod of understanding. Instead, Frisk silently plodded over to Sans's cot and took a seat, her gaze fixed on the skeleton as he approached the despondent rabbit monster, straining her ears with the hope of hearing what they might say.

* * *

Sans wasn't sure just when he had become monsterkind's go-to child expert. He had raised Papyrus, sure, and watched after Frisk, but he was far from any sort of authority when it came to kids.

Maybe it was just his nature. He liked kids; knew how they ticked, for the most part. He wasn't above reverse psychology, and he had a general understanding that children tended to be a good deal smarter than adults gave them credit for. So, apparently, kids tended to listen when he spoke. Kids liked to hang around him, and laugh at his jokes. They also seemed willing to open up to him, when they were unwilling to open up to anyone else. They trusted him.

How ironic.

Sans felt his nerves rise a bit as he made his way to the far, shadowed end of the tent. He knew Rabbit Kid pretty well; he was an awkward little squirt, all freckled fur, large eyes, and big buck teeth. Not a handsome child, by any means, but maybe he'd grow into his features over time. Then again, who was Sans to talk? He wasn't exactly a prize specimen himself.

Rabbit Kid was related to the Inn Keeper and her daughter, Sans was fairly certain. A cousin maybe? The kid had no parents, as was not all that uncommon. There had been an abundance of orphans in the Underground, even when there hadn't been a war to blame it on. Sans wasn't sure how it happened, but he knew that sometimes the whole strain and despair of being trapped beneath the mountain had...gotten to folks. Falling Down wasn't exactly something that could be controlled, and if a parent was old enough to have remembered the Surface before their banishment, knew what they were missing, they were twice as likely to dust from a hopeless soul.

Was that what had happened to Rabbit Kid's parents?

Sans didn't know.

And he wasn't going to ask.

Rabbit Kid didn't even look at him as Sans carefully slipped in beside him on the cot, his added meager weight dipping the flimsy mattress just a little. The little one - who honestly wasn't as little as he had once been - had definitely been crying. The white fur around his big eyes glistened in the half light, as the kid stared absently toward the tent's canvas wall. Sans was sure Rabbit Kid knew he was there, no one his age could be  _that_  out of it unless something was seriously wrong, but the kid made no move to look at him, or talk to him.

Sans let the silence drag on for a few minutes, then finally broke it with a cheerful greeting. "hey, there, bucko." He kept his tone pleasant, but soft. "i couldn't help but notice you sitting over here all by yourself. somethin' wrong, or...?"

Rabbit Kid winced, turning his head away from Sans with a sharp sniff. "G-Go away."

"go away, huh? gee. that isn't a real friendly thing to say."

"I d-don't want company," the child whimpered out, in that same voice Sans could remember Papyrus using when he was so, so young; when his brother had berated himself for his mistakes, before Pap knew how  _great_  he was. "I w-want...to be left a-alone."  _Sniff._

The skeleton gave a low hum of acknowledgement. No way he was leaving the kid alone, not like this. The Inn Keeper and her daughter weren't even in, and who knew when they would return. Leaving Rabbit Kid to stew in his own sorrows could be bad for the kid's soul.

Sans should know.

The older monster bounced one of his legs in thought, before speaking up again. "how about this? i'll make a deal with ya. if you tell me what's bugg'n you, in three sentences or less,  i'll try to come up with a solution in three sentences or less. if i can't, i'll leave you alone to stare at the wall. short an' sweet. but if i can, maybe we can get this straightened out, and it's still short an' sweet. either way, you win, and i won't be bothering you for long." He smiled kindly when Rabbit Kid finally turned to look at him. "s'pretty good deal, if you ask me. waddaya say?"

The lapine monster still seemed uncertain. "An' then you'll g-go away?"

Sans nodded. "an' then i'll go away."

After a few moments of consideration the kid gave a shaky nod, looking defeated and suspicious. "O-Okay." 

"alright." Sans made a show of lying back on the cot, folding his arms behind his skull. "go for it, bucko."

"I went to the far east side tonight," Rabbit Kid said tightly, his stubby little fingers fidgeting in his lap, twisting the fabric of his shirt. "I was hoping for a treat..." New tears sprang to his eyes. "Mary didn't bring m-me n-nothing."

Oh.  _Oh_. So that was what this was all about.

Mary did her best, she really did, but there was no way she could ever get something for every single monster in camp. Sure, things like food, clothing, and bedding were distributed, but specified gifts and treats were given by Mary herself to specific people, and though she tried to make her way of giving fair, it was hard for the children to understand that things didn't work out for all of them at once. Rabbit Kid would definitely end up with something eventually, but kids were all about the there and then. All Rabbit Kid knew what that he had been left out, and that felt very,  _very_  unpleasant.

Again Sans thought of Papyrus. Of a little skeleton, still in stripes, crying because the librarbian had passed out cinnamon bunnies to all the Snowdin children except Papyrus, having wrongly assumed that, being what he was, Papyrus didn't need to eat. There weren't enough skeletons in existence for their habits and needs to be public knowledge, and so, as a result, mis-assumptions had been frequent. By the time Sans had been notified that his brother was 'mysteriously distraught', realized what was wrong, and explained it to the librarbian, it had already been too late. There had been no cinnamon bunnies left and Papyrus had been  _crushed_. No amount of promising him a treat at home could sooth of the throbbing pain of being forgotten by those he looked up to, and Papyrus had been inconsolable; crying himself to sleep in a little pitiful pile on the sofa, wrapped in every blanket they had owned.

The librarbian had felt awful.

Sans had felt even worse.

"I didn't even g-get a piece of that w-weird brown c-candy Undyne and your brother passed out, e-either," the rabbit whimpered, already forgetting his rule of three sentences. "I was too short for anyone to notice me." The kid slumped, tugging at his shirt and looking so much like that much younger Papyrus that Sans had to fight the urge to tilt up and wrap the little guy in a hug.

Sans considered his options.

He was...reluctant to share his socks that Mary had gotten him. Had they been plain, and with no sentimental value, he would have given up a pair or two in a soulbeat. But, seeing as Mary had specifically bought them for him, with some odd, familial reason involved, Sans knew giving even one pair away could potentially come back around, the kind gesture blowing up in his face. Besides, what kid actually  _enjoyed_  getting socks as a gift?

But he didn't have anything else...

Sans's sockets suddenly widened in memory. He didn't have anything else...other than a second piece of peanut brittle that he had snuck while Mary and Toriel hadn't been looking. He had been planning to give it to Papyrus, or hang on to it for himself in case circumstances lowered his HP unexpectedly. A safety net, so to speak. But...this seemed like a far more noble cause. 

Decision made, Sans sat up with a grunt and dug into the pocket opposite his socks. "oh, well now, i think that's where you're mistaken, buddy," he said cheerfully. "mary did have a little something for ya, but she gave it to me to give you when no one was around to get jealous."

Rabbit Kid's eyes shot open wide, his little jaw slack as he turned and watched Sans pull out his hand from his coat. Papyrus had washed his jacket not that long ago, so the treat would still be clean without any hair or lint stuck to it, though Sans did give it a quick glance to be sure. Pap had a habit of viciously cleaning even the pocket lining of his jacket.

The child's eyes only grew larger as Sans handed him the very large chunk of peanut brittle, far larger than Sans knew the pieces Undyne and Papyrus had been passing out.

"see this piece here?"

"Uh huh?"

"it's special," Sans informed in a whisper.

Rabbit Kid gazed at it wonder. "How so?"

"this candy contains happiness. see, can you feel it?" Sans gently placed the brittle into the child's hands, watching in amusement as he cradled it reverently, nodding.

"Y-Yeah. It...I can feel it!"

"makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

"Yes!"

Sans nodded, inwardly relieved. "well, now, all you gotta do it put that piece of candy someplace safe for the night, and you'll feel happy all the way 'til morning. then, after breakfast, you can eat it. you'll be the happiest little buckoroo in camp."

"You really think so, Mr. Sans?"

Sans shook his head. "doesn't matter if i believe it, buddy. it matters if  _you_  believe it. that kind of magic works like that, you know. whaddaya think? pretty neat gift, huh?"

His response was the little rabbit monster slamming into his side, small arms wrapped around his middle as the kid nuzzled against his chest. A murmured 'thank you, Mr. Sans' drifted up to him and Sans found himself melting into the embrace, returning it gently. He snuck a glance at the other occupants of the tent, finding four sets of eyes staring back with cheesy smiles pasted on their sappy faces. Even PB looked like something had crawled into his soul and warmed him. Sans gave them a restricted, one shouldered shrug, before reaching up and giving the child a gentle pat on the head.

"alright, alright; you don't gotta thank me. besides, i broke my own rules. that was waaaaay more than three sentences on my part. you, on the other hand, did great." As the rabbit monster pulled away, gazing down lovingly at his new treat, Sans tapped a finger against the peanut brittle. "now, you find someplace safe to keep that until morning, and try to settle down for bed, okay? your cousin isn't gonna be too happy if she finds you all sour faced when she gets back. deal?"

"Yes, Mr. Sans."

Rabbit Kid immediately got up and dug out a plastic container from under his cot, a place he kept his valuables. As the treat was laid to rest, Sans pulled himself up into a stand, stretching his spine and shoving his hands back in his pockets. Giving the occupied child a final smile, he made his way back toward the front of the tent. He was greeted by a grinning, teary eyed Frisk and three smirking monsters. Sans fixed the last three with a look of helpless satisfaction, a soundless 'what can i say?'.

"Well, I'll be," PB hummed when Sans rejoined them. He watched as Rabbit Kid tugged back the covers of his cot, treat secure, and slipped into bed with one of his hand-crafted toys. It was a hand puzzle, one that Papyrus had designed and made. "Nothing we said or did could quiet him, and you come along and basically negotiate him into calming down." The bear shook his head in disbelief. "You know, for a guy who likes to joke around and annoy people...you're pretty okay."

Sans gave a huff, trying to take the compliment gracefully and failing. He always hated being told he was good, or smart, or just...genuinely complimented in general, and he had no idea as to why. Maybe someday he'd figure it out. Not tonight.

"yeah, well...don't go spreading it around, okay? i've got a ruthlessly lazy and useless reputation to keep up."

Frisk gave a snort of laughter and Sans grinned.

"so, friskorooni...you still hungry?" Sans himself was starving, his magic beginning to feel shaky and hazed. Monsters needed to replenish their magic regularly, skeleton monsters even more so, and Sans most of all, due to his 'condition'. As it was, he had probably waited a good deal longer than he should have. That piece of peanut brittle had done wonders for him, but it had been hours since then.

Frisk beamed, the springs of Sans's cot squeaking as she bounced up and down as she sat. "Yes!"

"ooookay, let's see what we've got."

Sans's bed was right beside his brother's, and between the two rested an old, worn, trunk. It sort of resembled a treasure chest, which was probably why Papyrus had taken such a liking to it. Sans and Papyrus had found it in the dump, on one of their last trips to the Underground. It had served as a sort of pantry locker for the two of them, their share of the rations stored within, along with anything else of value. It had a rusty old lock and a key, which Sans kept between his physic book and astronomy book under his cot. Not that they suspected anyone of stealing their rations, monsters were generally honest beings, but some of the street dwellers from New Home weren't always the clean slated souls they should have been. Sans knew from experience; he had Judged at least ten in his lifetime under Asgore's employment.

Giving a slight groan of discomfort, Sans knelt down and reached under his bed, fetching the key before straightening, fitting the cold metal tip into the lock. It opened easily, and Sans pocketed the key and started digging around inside the trunk, handing Frisk things of possible interest. There was a number of nonperishable items, cans mostly, along with a few packages of sun-dried fruits and nuts. Nothing particularly exciting, but at this point one couldn't be picky. The new supplies Mary had brought would be distributed sometime the next day. What was left in the trunk was more than enough to last the night and tomorrow morning. 

"heh. looks like we've got...stew, stew, and oh, look, more stew." Frisk giggled as Sans lined up the identical cans. "that's pretty much it as far as dinner related stuff. unless you want to chew on nuts and berries for supper." Frisk made a face and Sans laughed. "okay, i'll take that as a 'no'. stew it is."

"Why do you have so much stew?" Frisk asked curiously, moving to help him put the extra cans back, since they'd really only be needing one between the two of them. She peered into the trunk, discovering that stew really was all that was left, other than the dried fruit and nuts.

Sans shrugged, selecting one of the cans and putting it aside. "well, you see, papyrus isn't too fond of canned stew. says it reminds him too much of grillby's greasy meals. so he-"

"Ate everything else and this is all that's left," Frisk finished, nodding in understanding.

"you got it, kiddo."

That was just how Papyrus was. For a full grown monster, he could be...well, a bit childish. Everyone had their little, picky quirks. Sans himself didn't care much for raw carrots; he didn't like the way they crunched, like a bone snapping in half, but he would eat them if there was no other option available. Papyrus, on the other hand, would almost rather starve than eat something he considered 'gross' or 'unhealthy'. Even though he definitely had a sweet tooth...or thirty-two. He was fond of candy when he could get it, so that whole abhorrence for the unhealthy apparently had exceptions. The fact that Papyrus had eaten everything  _but_ the cans of stew was really not all that much of a surprise. It wasn't like Sans would stop him. As long as Papyrus was happy and fed, Sans didn't care; he ate anything, even if it wasn't his favorite.

Sans locked the trunk back up, having also stowed his new socks inside, and put the key back in its place, standing with yet another groan of protest. "ngh. so. you wanna eat this thing hot or cold?"

"Um...hot? Please?"

"s'fine with me. just a little more work, but, you know what, kid?"

"What?"

"you're worth it."

Frisk beamed.

The hardest task in making supper was finding an unoccupied campfire. Luckily, since it was after the time everyone else usually ate, they found one just a few tents over and proceeded to make themselves at home. Frisk had carried over one of Papyrus's pans, while Sans had taken up the stew and an old can opener. It was rusted, the opener that is, and so it took a bit of doing to ensure one opened the can without getting chips of rust in the food. That wouldn't be good for either of them, despite their differences in biology. Sans, fortunately, had gained considerable skill in that area. A benefit of having to make due with what he could find in a dump all his life. Rusty can openers had been the least of his troubles back then.

Frisk helped hold the can still as Sans worked at the smooth, tin top. It actually took a bit of elbow grease, but Sans managed, even if he had to pause every so often so his arm would stop aching in a pulse. He really needed to eat.

The can ended up being stubborn, of course, and instead of a nice, clean cut all the way around they ended up with something more resembling a slit. Sans inspected the jagged puncture with a frown. It wasn't very wide, but the stews Mary brought, donated by various charities back in the city, were typically more like soup, very few chunks and rather watery. Sodium free too, which meant they were in desperate need of salt. Sans figured he'd be able to pour the contents out through the thin slash without too much trouble. Hopefully.

"grab the pan?" Sans requested as he poked at the fire with a stick. Doing so uncovered some hot glowing embers that would help heat up their meal more efficiently than open flames.

Frisk handed Sans the pan and watched him drain out as much of the stew as he could, giving it a few sharp shakes at the end to try and dislodge what looked like a stubborn chunk of potato. He glanced at the instructions on the can, squinting in the low fire light.

"no water added, that's good. s'gonna need something to spice it up though. but we'll take care of that once it's warmed up." He set the pan on a grill-like mesh that Grillby had devised and provided for nearly every fire in camp, just over the embers and flames like a proper cookout. Satisfied, Sans stood up, absorbing a lick of wayward stew from his finger. "okay, that's gonna take a few minutes to heat up. how about i go wash the gunk off my hands and you run to your tent and get into your pajamas? by the time we meet back here, the food should be just starting to warm up."

Frisk scrambled to her feet, all smiles. "Alright, Uncle Sans! Race you! Last one back is a lazy skeleton!" And she took off like a shot, leaping over tree stump seats and baskets of laundry like an nymph from the tales of old. 

Sans chuckled, ambling out toward the creek without even trying to hurry. "i _am_ a lazy skeleton," he muttered truthfully.


	6. Where Once We Stood So Certain

Frisk loved running. She loved the feel of her bare feet pounding against the cool, dew-laden grass and the brush of chilly breeze through her hair. She leaped and shimmied her way across camp, running for all she was worth, even though she knew she would win the race. Sans never rushed for anything, and unless he decided to cheat with a shortcut, which was entirely possible, Frisk knew her victory was secured.

She was at the halfway point between Sans's tent and her mother's when Frisk felt a sharp twist of pain in her chest. It was harsh enough that she cried out, her feet stumbling until she came to a tremulous halt. She stood there, alone in an encampment full of monsters all settling down for the night, trembling and suddenly covered in the sweat that comes with extreme discomfort. Her hands shakily snaked up to her chest, her fingers latching into her sweater like she could pull the ache from her soul by tearing it out herself. She knew this feeling, and she loathed it. As the sharp pain faded to a dull throb, Frisk heard that all so familiar voice. A voice that had remained mostly silent all evening, but now returned cold and clear.

**It's time.**

"N-No," Frisk whispered breathlessly. "No, no, Chara, it's-It's still too-"

**I'm not asking you, Frisk. I'm _telling_  you.** The pain increased momentarily in warning.  **Go out into the forest, so we won't be disturbed. Do it, or I'll _make you_.**

When Frisk resisted, the pain grew worse, and so, with a choked sob, Frisk started staggering away from her destination, out toward the forest fringe far to her right. There was no use in trying to distract Chara any further. Frisk had gotten her extra time, and she had enjoyed it beyond measure. It had been wonderful hanging out with Sans, basically doing nothing, but it had felt so fulfilling in the moment. Frisk had felt so content, so at ease, that she had forgotten the evening was a proverbial ticking clock, a countdown to the end of this beautiful timeline.

The forest was darker now, menacing and foreign, despite it having become a place she played each and every day with monsters like MK. The clouds that had blotted out parts of the night sky now dominated it, leaving the woods dark and cold. Frisk could have sworn the trees had eyes, each boring into her with hate as she shakily made her way along, waiting for Chara's call to stop. It was as though the very world around her knew what she was about to do, and despised her for it.

Her sins crawled on her back, burning like acid at her soul through her spine.

**This is good. You can do it here.**

Tears were running down Frisk's face as she came to a jolted stop. They were in a clearing now, deep within Ebott's forest. Frisk wasn't sure just where, nothing looked recognizable in her current state of distress. Her toes curled into the grass at her feet, the feeling no longer comfortable in her anguish. She took one look at the star-less sky through the branches and hung her head, hands clenched at her sides.

**Oh, don't give me that,** Chara growled.  **I was more than fair. You had all evening to do as you wished. It's not my fault you decided to waste it on that stupid, useless comedian.**

"H-He's not useless," Frisk shuddered, wiping away her tears on her brand new navy sweater. She was lucky to have been able to where it once, at least, before the end. "And he's...he's not stupid. He's..." Frisk felt her soul twist in sorrow. "He's my family."

Chara grumbled in her head.  **Then you have a real poor choice in character. Don't you remember what he's done to us?** **! Don't you remember the feeling of being smashed against walls by your soul? Of being sliced and diced by sharp, bone stakes? What is _wrong_  with you?! You shouldn't  _love him_ , you should  _HATE HIM!_**

Frisk felt her weak grasp on her consciousness slipping, Chara threatening to take over. The tears and sobs came freely. There was no stopping this.

**Summon it.**

This was it.

Tilting her head back and gritting her teeth, Frisk reached deep inside herself for the determination that had once been such a blessing, but now was nothing more than a curse. Where her will had become cracked and scarred, Chara filled in with her own heated, burning hatred, a different kind of determination; one fueled by vengeance and cruelty. There was a spark of red light in Frisk's chest, a sputtering flicker, and then her soul burst into being, the yellow rimmed edges of the reset button glowing just beyond it. The word glared back at her, 'reset', and she had never felt so sick of it. She wanted it out of her life, but, instead, it ran it.

**Good. Now, _PUSH IT_.**

There was no use resisting.

Frisk clenched her eyes shut tight, images of her loved ones dancing across her mind's eye. Toriel, with her loving, motherly smile. Asgore with his gentle patience. Undyne with her passion for life, and Papyrus with his good, kind soul. Alphys with her shy, blushing face. And Sans. Sans with that hidden pain that made Frisk think that, maybe, _maybe_ , he understood her. Somehow. Sans, the jokester who could set aside his own comfort to ensure the safety of others.

Sans...her best friend.

The tears ran faster down her cheeks as Frisk raised a shaking hand over the Reset button. She could feel a heat rising from it, calling her forward and yet repulsing her all at once. It pulled her hand ever closer, bit by bit - or maybe Chara was pushing. Either way, this was the last of this run.

Time was up.

Only three inches separated the world from destruction, and renewal.

.

.

.

Two inches.

.

.

.

One inch.

.

.

.

"G-Goodbye," Frisk whispered.

And then-

"stop!"

Frisk startled, eyes snapping back open and looking up from the glow and hum of the Reset button, her hand hovering just over its ethereal surface. Across from her in the clearing, barely visible in the heavy darkness, stood  _Sans_.

He was a mess. He was soaked, like he had fallen into the creek, the water dripping quietly off of his clothes and bones onto the grass. His chest was heaving, sockets wider than Frisk had ever seen them. His eye lights were present, but they were so, so small; little pricks nearly swallowed up in the dark voids of his light-less pits. Frisk frowned at his complete lack of a smile, not even that familiar mask there to make him at least  _look_  alive. His hands weren't in his pockets, instead held out to his sides, like he was bracing for something, and even over the distance that separated them Frisk could see his hands were shaking. His  _entire body_  was shaking.

Frisk retracted her hand from the button, wanting to step around it and forward to make sure he was alright, but Chara, apparently semi-in-control now, held her back. Frisk could feel the restless spirit press against her mind like one might press against glass, curious and interested with a mix of fond hatred stirring deep within. Chara had always loved hurting Sans the most, out of every other monster in the Underground. The things they had done to him were permanently seared into Frisk's memory.

**What's he up to?**

Frisk studied Sans further in concern, her soul aching.

He looked...frightened. Which was a rarity that Frisk only associated with the worst of her resets; the ones where she had little or no control. He looked rigid, standing straighter than his usual laid-back demeanor typically allowed. His expression screamed helplessness, but his stance was practically a war cry.

He wasn't here to joke.

Sans was here to fight.

And that didn't make any sense at all.

**Something's wrong**  Chara murmured, sounding almost excited. Breathless. They always did like things 'going off script' as they called it. That always happened the most when Sans was involved, oddly enough. Chara's presence solidified into a wraith at Frisk's side. Sans's eyes didn't move from Frisk, so it was obvious he couldn't see them as Frisk could. The demon hummed in curiosity.  **Ask him what his problem is.**

"...Sans?" Frisk tried tentatively, swallowing back something like bile in her throat. She still hadn't disbanded the Reset option, knowing Sans wouldn't be able to see it either, just as he couldn't see her captor. Though she must have made for a silly sight, standing there with her hand outstretched over nothing. "Is...Are you okay?"

"don't." His voice was weak. Haunted. "kid, please..."

Chara cooed.  **Ooooo, begging. He's _begging_ , Frisk. I'm liking where this is going...**

Frisk tries to push away the flashing images of just how much Chara enjoyed Sans's suffering. For the first time in a while, Frisk had the energy and willpower to hold back, as Chara started to try and urge her forward, wanting her to get closer to the trembling skeleton before them, still too far away to reach.

"Sans, are you...are you hurt? What's wrong?" Frisk tried again. She wanted him to leave. Resetting didn't sound so bad now, if they could escape this timeline without tainting it in her friend's dust.

The skeleton took a shaky step forward. "frisk...kiddo, please...you don't have to do this."

Frisk felt something tighten around her soul. Dread.  _He....He didn't. He couldn't._ "D-Don't do what?"

"kid, please, you don't have to reset."

That sentence shattered Frisk's very perspective of the universe. She stopped breathing, her very heart feeling like it had frozen in her chest as her blood turned cold. She was rendered speechless, useless within the hold of total shock. But Chara...While Frisk was still reeling from those weak, murmured pleas, Chara's ethereal eyes had widened, confusion slowly blooming into something leering, fascinated.  _Hungry._

**He _...remembers?_**

"He remembers," Frisk whispered in echo, like a broken record. Louder, she choked, "You remember."

Sans nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Frisk's. His voice was barely above a whisper, and yet it somehow carried. "...i remember."

"No...No, that's-" Frisk felt numb. "That's impossible, Sans. You...can't remember. You just  _can't_."

The skeleton merely returned her pained stare. "funny. how the word 'impossible' so often gets used for things that are already clearly possible. have _been_ possible, for a while. i'm telling you, kid...i remember."

Silence.

Terrible, horrible silence.

Then Chara started to giggle. That giggle turned into a laugh, until the demon was all but roaring in hysterics, Frisk wincing and Sans unaware of the grating sound.

**After all this time, finally, something exciting! Ooooho, this is just _delicious!_**

Sans couldn't remember. He just  _couldn't_. The implications were unthinkable. Him remembering opened up a hundred - no, a  _thousand_  - paths of senselessly cruel possibilities, past, present, and future. Frisk recalled all the times she and Chara had killed Papyrus, how it had affected Sans; the pain in his voice as he had met them in the Hall. She recalled all the times they had killed everyone in the Underground, leaving it empty and covered in dust. She was haunted by those memories. They haunted her every waking moment, her every sleepless night. If Sans remembered...

That strained, smiling mask on his face suddenly made a lot more sense.

"Oh, Sans..."

Chara slowly floated forward, like a predator, then lightly shifted around Sans's shivering form, trailing their finger along the back of his shoulders. Sans still seemed completely unaware of their presence, though Frisk could just make out a shudder that ran through his frame, like he was reacting to the malicious spirit's touch. People sometimes did that when Chara got too close, like they could sense the soul of the damned. Frisk had often wondered if only monsters could feel it.

**_Look_  at him, Frisk. He's  _afraid_. Of  _us_. Of what we can  _do_.** They tittered, soothing a hand down Sans's shoulder, feeling the thin bone beneath, probably tempted to break it, just to watch him squirm. Frisk had seen that look before. But then it changed to something more...Frisk couldn't quite place it. They looked disappointed? No, unsatisfied. Because they knew they held no corporeal form. Any harm they caused would have to be  _through_   _Frisk_.

**Ask him how _much_  he remembers,** Chara cooed, moving back to Sans's front, staring into his eyes as he stared through them, before they moved back to hover at Frisk's side.  **Ask him what he can remember of what we _did_.**

Frisk opened her mouth, then closed it again with a weak shake of her head, blinking back the tears that were still lying dormant in her eyes. She wasn't going to ask Sans that. She  _couldn't_. What if he remembered...what they had done to him. To  _Papyrus_. To everyone.

Frisk tightened her fists at her sides, the Reset button still stretched out before her. "I...I didn't know you remembered..." she murmured.

Sans shrugged, but it wasn't anything like his usual, laid back response. "not...everything. i mean, at this point a lot of it just sort of blends together...but i remember the best and worst of things. like shadows, they sort of just...linger in the back of my mind. i remember standing on the clifftop outside the barrier, the setting sun warming our faces, at least a hundred times...and i remember what the underground sounds like when it's completely silent...devoid of anything but dust swirling in the drafts."

"Sans-"

"i was always afraid to tell you. can you blame me? i know how people like you work. flowey found out once, back when he was the main anomaly. it...didn't really do anything good for me...or those i care about."

Frisk swallowed thickly. She could understand that. If Flowey's excitement had been anything like Chara's, if his expression was even minutely a mirror of the one Chara was wearing now, Frisk couldn't imagine the horrid things her friend had endured at the flower's power. Nor the cruelty he would surely endure in the future now that Chara  _knew_.

Sans shouldn't have come here.

He was only furthering the tortures to come, leading every barbed ounce of Chara's interest straight toward his vulnerable self.

Chara was becoming impatient.  **Move closer to him.**

Frisk's brain stuttered. "B-But, the Reset-" she whimpered, too low for Sans to hear.

**_Never mind the reset_ ,** Chara hissed, their voice then curling into a purr.  **I've got a new toy to test out first. Why reset when we can play. Right _here_.**

Frisk felt a familiar pressure start on her soul, a dreadful, monstrous pressure that stole her breath and made her want to die inside.

No. No, no no no no!

Frisk felt every once of her being rebel. Chara wanted to take over! The implications were all there, that thick, powerful want, that intent to hurt weaving its way through her being, foreign and strong. It hadn't taken her over yet, but it was readying to, gearing up for the final, needed push. Frisk began to panic. She couldn't let this continue! It had been one thing when it had only been her who remembered, only her who suffered the cumulative weight of the resets, but now that she knew that Sans carried that burden as well, that be suffered just as much as she did, if not more, Frisk knew that Chara could not be allowed to take control. The demon had allowed her these few and far apart respites, out of boredom most likely, trying to keep their host from giving in to true despair...But with Sans as a new prospective victim, one that would retain the harm they did to him each reset, Frisk had a hard time believing Chara would continue to be so lenient.

This might very well be Frisk's final run in control.

And that meant Sans would be on his own.

Against a power he had no hope of defeating.

"No."

**... _W h a t   d i d   y o u   j u s t   s a y   t o   m e ?_**

Frisk grit her teeth as the pressure on her soul increased, like a fist closing around her being, but for the first time in a long time, her determination was strong enough to push back. Frisk held back a groan of discomfort. With a sharp wave of her hand, she dismissed the Reset button into nothing, leaving the path between her and Sans clear. She ignored Chara's glaring red eyes, keeping her voice steady and deceptively calm.

"Sans, listen to me. The one who's been killing everyone, who's been resetting time, over and over again, it's...it's not me."

Sans blinked, still looking incredibly tense. "...prove it."

Frisk shook her head, sadly. "I can't. I don't know how."

"...so you expect me to accept your word on faith?" Sans gave a humorless chuckle. "kid, that's asking a lot, especially from a guy like me."

Frisk shut her eyes, trying to hold back Chara's growing rage. The spirit shifted between them, close to Frisk's face so that when Frisk opened her eyes they were a mere breath apart. Chara had never looked so terrifying.

**I'm warning you, Frisk!**  they growled in warning.  **If you don't back down, I will make you _both_  suffer beyond the bounds of your most devastating nightmares! Do you hear me?! Frisk! FRISK!**

Frisk took a steadying breath, and stepped through the apparition. The feeling of cold, displaced air made her shiver, but she ignored the other, gaze fixed on Sans.

The skeleton took an uneasy step back at her slight approach.

"If you remember, Sans, then please, think back. Through all the resets, all the timelines. Haven't you ever wondered why I killed one run and tried to save you all the next? Didn't you ever feel like I was two people, one good and one bad, all rolled up into one unpredictable mess?" A tone of pleading bled into Frisk's voice. "Please, if you remember, you  _must_  have noticed. You  _must_  have realized something wasn't right. Sans,  _please_..."

The monster looked lost; overwhelmed. He considered Frisk uncertainly, his hands shifting restlessly at his sides. He seemed to be weighing something, trying to decide where he stood. Finally, tone flat and lifeless, he said, "...yeah...yeah, i've noticed." His eye lights sharpened, becoming fiercer. "but what does that prove? the insane don't always come with one name, kid. sometimes they come with two."

"Sans-"

**S T O P   T H I S !**

Frisk winced as pain bloomed in her chest and temple, curling inward and almost stumbling to the ground in agony. "S-Sans, you have t-to believe m-me- _ugh!_  I l-love you. I l-love all of you! You and the others are m-my family!"

Sans, for the first time, turned his gaze away. His hands clenched and unclenched in uneasy agitation. "kid-"

"Think, Sans! Think over the last few months, the last few resets that went right! The days in the sun, the fun we had, the times we all came together for the greater good, Sans! That was m-me- _UGHK!_ "

This time Frisk did fall to her knees, the damp earth soaking through the knees of her pants. Sans looked startled, though Frisk was only just barely aware of it. Chara was gaining ground. She didn't have much time left. She had to convince Sans of who she was - who  _Chara_  was. She didn't know why, only that it was urgent and all consuming. Sans  _had_   _to_  understand.

"frisk?! uh, kiddo, are you-?!" He was slowly stepping forward, the gentle side of his soul beginning to win out over the half that was more cautious.

"No!" Frisk nearly screamed, in pain, in panic, in desperation. "S-Stay back, Sans! Please! P-Please..." She gulped down a few breaths, trying to cool the burning in her body, with no relief. "You have t-to...l-listen to m-me...You have to b-believe..."

"then tell me what to believe!" Sans shouted back, apparently reaching his own stress level threshold. He looked torn; torn between reaching out to the friend whose voice he could hear, and recoiling from the demon he had come to know. "explain this to me!"

"I don't want t-to reset, Sans," Frisk forced out. "The power is...i-is mine, but I don't want t-to! I haven't w-wanted to...f-for hundreds of r-runs."

"then...why can't you just _stop?_ " the skeleton pleaded. "why can't you just let life continue on as it was  _meant_  to?"

**Don't. You. Dare.**

"I-I'm being c-controlled by someone," Frisk panted out. "It was m-my fault at first, I accept that j-judgement, I'll face those consequences, but Sans- _ugh!_ Th-this isn't me anymore!" A sob tore from her throat unexpectedly, the very embodiment of her anguish, and Sans flinched hard at the sound of it. "I don't c-care what Chara says," Frisk forced out. "I don't care  _how_  they t-try to make me, Sans, but I will never  _ever_  reset again." She pressed her hands against the sides of her head, trying to will her own power over Chara's steadily winning grip. "I won't! I-I won't, Sans! I...I-I  _promise_."

Sans's breath hitched. That thin wall of control that he had somehow been maintained was cracking, slowly crumbling. He was holding on by the skin of his teeth. "...d-don't..." His voice caught in his throat, a moment passing before he tried again. "don't make promises you can't keep, kid. i...i c-can't..." He didn't finish, but he didn't need to. Frisk knew what he meant.

He couldn't take another reset.

It would ruin him.

**If you're trying to break him _more_ ,** Chara hissed aggressively, **then, by all means, continue! You're only going to end up wounding him _deeper and deeper_** **. He'll fall apart, when this is all taken away again, and what remains of him next reset I will make _suffer like never before_ _._  He'll wish for a permanent death, but he will never have it. He will cry out for mercy, and never gain it. He will scream for it all to be a dream and I will make his every waking moment a  _nightmare!_  And I am going to  _love_  it, Frisk! DO YOU HEAR ME?!  _LOVE IT!_**

"I'm keeping this one," Frisk whispered hoarsely. Tears were gathering in her eyes, and she wasn't sure if it was Chara's words or her friend's broken voice that was causing it. "I'm n-not taking away another happy ending. I  _refuse_." Was she talking to Sans or Chara? Both. She was talking to both.

Sans looked as though he were about to speak, his pin pricks small and far too dim, but he just ended up shaking his head, even more lost than before. His shoulders slumped as though some great, crushing weight were pressing down on him. His breaths were shaky. "i want to believe you, kid," he rasped. "i really do, but...how much of this do you think i can take?" His hand snaked up to grip at the fabric of his shirt, right over his soul, like it pained him. "i don't have the power to keep hoping...i don't think i can...it's...there's just no way that this could be it. not if neither one of us are the one in control. it  _can't_  just  _stop_."

The defeat in his voice awoke something even stronger than determination in Frisk's soul, something tight and warm; something that burst in her chest as she lurched up and forward to take his hands in hers. He jolted at the touch, like he had been expecting something else from her; something more violent. But once she had a gentle hold, he didn't try to pull away. He stared back dully into her fervent eyes, a mere husk of the monster he had been only a mere twenty minutes before. Between them, it was difficult to tell whose hands were shaking harder.

"It  _can_ ," she insisted. "It  _can_ , Sans, I'll  _make_  it work. For the first time, I think I can really beat this. I can beat  _them_. But I need your h-help, okay? I can't do this alone. I need you to  _believe_  in me, Sans. Believe th-that Frisk and Chara are not the s-same, okay? Believe that I am my own p-person, the one who spent th-the evening playing cards and cooking stupid c-cans of stew in an old pot with you. I n-need you to believe in the future that we can have; that we can  _all_  have, if I c-can j-just  _beat this_. I need you t-to- _nh-t-to-o-_ "

**_E N O U G H ._ **

Frisk's temples burned. The pain was searing, like someone was dragging a hot red poker over the gray matter of her brain. She released Sans's hands with a gasp, gripping the sides of her head as she curled into herself, legs threatening to buckle again. Sans startled back, his apathy forgotten in the face of his sudden, growing concern.

"k-kid? what's happen- kid?!"

"Ch-Ch-a-"

"bucko?!"

Frisk could feel him trying to hold her up as she began to fold. He was trying to help her. Hope bloomed in her chest, if only for a moment. Monsters were made up of love, hope, and compassion. Sans might have been a monster worn thin, but he still held those qualities. Despite what she had done to him - what she  _was_  doing to him - he still reached forward without hesitation, ducking his head down to try and catch sight of her gaze while gently taking hold of her. His phalanges curled over the tension in her shoulders, a steadying presence that nonetheless did absolutely nothing. A thrill of terror shot through Frisk, not for her own sake, but for his. This feeling, this deteriorating agony that ripped at her very being- she had felt it before. She knew what was coming.

She couldn't hold Chara back any longer.

With a strength she didn't know she possessed, Frisk wrenched Sans's hands off her and shoved him away. He was worryingly light, weighed almost nothing, and her push sent him stumbling back several paces, nearly throwing him to the ground as he staggered.

"frisk, wha-?!"

"R-R-un-n!"

"wh-what?"

" _RUN!_ "

Sans's eye lights flickered out. Frisk doubted very much that he knew just what was happening, but, then again, he had managed to surprise her and Chara on countless occasions. He was smart, maybe even too smart for his own good. For a moment, even through the burning and the slow loss of control, Frisk could see the flash of fear that sparked in his eye lights, how he angled his body, ready to flee as she had requested. She hoped desperately that he would. That maybe he could be spared being hurt at Chara's - her -  _their_  hands - just a little bit longer.

But he didn't.

Sans could be exceedingly stubborn. His fear hardened into something stern and resigned, something that only those who know they're damned and accept it can truly understand. It didn't look good on him; like a smoking gun in the hands of a child. It was frightening. It brought up images in Frisk's mind, of golden lit halls and blood soaked tiles...

"i'm tired of running," he gritted. "i'm  _tired_  of hiding." He raised his voice, hands clenched at his sides. "i don't know what to believe here, but if you  _do_  got somebody else living in you who's got a bone to pick with me...well _,_  then, to them i say come out and deliver the message yourself!"

_**G L A D L Y .** _

The pain increased. Frisk fought against it for as long as she could, but in the end, she felt herself  _c a v e ._

* * *

The minute Frisk became something - someone? - else, Sans knew. Her entire posture changed, from something trembling and small to something sly, confident, and smirking. Those brown eyes, filled with nothing but desperation and pain, turned a crimson red, a fire-like hatred and glee burning within. He could see them, glowing beneath the child's bangs, as a terrible, low chuckle filled the quiet space between them.

The voice wasn't Frisk's anymore either. That musical lilt it always held became gravelly, rough, and calloused.

 Demonic.

 

**"Well, this is certainly an interesting turn of events, wouldn't you say, Sansy? Frisk can be such a crybaby sometimes. I hope her being an idiot doesn't throw you off your game. You've always been so much fun to play with..."**  They laughed again, long and cruel, the sound of it sending chills down Sans's spine.

The skeleton slowly widened his stance, scowling at the possessor that had taken control of his friend's body. He remained silent, refusing to give in to the being's taunts. His bones were rattling, despite his best efforts to hide it; a mix of terror and barely contained rage.

The creature tilted Frisk's head to the side, those eyes fixing on him with amusement and their smile twisting into a smug, jagged grin.  **"Not going to say anything? Nothing about how you're 'not going to just stand their and take it'? How 'if I take one more step'..."**  

They grinned all the wider, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. Sans matched it by taking a stumbling step backward, expression un-trusting and cautious. They merely giggled, shaking their head with an odd fondness. 

**"To think, it was right in front of us the whole time. You _remember_. I thought you were always just being your own weird, little self, Comedian; but in reality...you were just trying to keep your resets straight. Oh! How delightfully dramatic!"**

Sans gritted his teeth.  _Comedian._ That was what Frisk always called him, in the Hall, at the end of a genocide timeline. Only he had never been able to reconcile that tone with the child he had come to care about in the peaceful runs, the child he had spent all evening with. The child he called 'Frisk'. But this person...This was a presence of a different sort that he recognized. One that matched much more accurately to the one he had fought countless times. Sans measured his breaths, trying to fight back the memories that tried to assault him. Memories of a searing knife slashing through his ribs. Of a hall meant for good, tarnished with blood and magic. Of a friend changed, and the confusion and hurt that came with it. The hopelessness. The agony. Friends lost. Papyrus. His fault. Always his fault. His fault his fa _ult his fault his fault his-_

"frisk was telling the truth," he forced out slowly, watching the distance between them carefully, keeping them as far apart as possible even as the being prowled. "she really isn't the one forcing the resets...it's  _you_."

**"Eh. More or less. Though, in the beginning, it was all**   **her**. They chuckled.  **It's almost ridiculously silly how boredom can drive people to do things they never would do normally. All they need is a little whisper in the ear; a little voice telling them to try. Try something new. And this...Oho, Sansy.** ** _This_  is new."**

Suddenly the world stuttered. Not a reset, though for a moment he thought it might be one. A reload then. Disorientation was dizzying, nearly knocking his legs out from under him, but then it cleared, and Sans jolted back, blinking in panic as he found himself only inches from his foe. They were so close! How had they gotten so close?! The being smirked at him in triumph, their hand already reaching for him.

**"And I _like_  new."**

Sans took a chance and teleported. But, due to the magic he had expended earlier that day, along with not having eaten a proper meal in hours, his attempt only took him to the other side of the clearing. But it was enough. There was space once more between the-

The world stuttered.

Sans jolted back, blinking in panic as he found himself only inches from his foe. They were so close! How had they gotten so close?! The being smirked at him in triumph, their hand already reaching for hi-

Wait.

The skeleton reeled from the backlash of the sudden pull of time and space. He tried to teleport once more, but before he had even finished the jump he found himself right back where he had started, feeling exhausted and breathing hard as he trembled.

He couldn't escape.

Impulsively, Sans slapped the hand away that landed ever so lightly on his sternum, regaining a few steps by backing away again, this time manually on foot.

"wh-who are you?" he managed, hating the vulnerable tremor in his voice. This thing, this being, it unnerved him. Staring into it's glowing red eyes was like staring into the worst part of everything he had ever known. Maybe even the worst part of himself. "if you're not frisk, then  _who the hell are you?!_ "

The creature in Frisk's body looked annoyed, shaking the hand he had swatted as though to fan away the pain. The feeling of bone on flesh could not have been pleasant.  **"Easy, now, Comedian. Don't want to hurt Frisk, now do you? Not when you two were getting to be such close friends."** A belittling smile.  **"As for who I am, does that really matter?"**

"yeah. i think it kinda does, actually," he countered. Sweat tickled the side of his skull.

**"Oh, very well. If it will get you to stop asking such stupid questions.**  They reared themselves up, posture tight and rigid, something almost regal locking all their joints in an elegant pose. **What I am now is unknown, but in my years of life I was Chara Dreemurr, adopted daughter of King Asgore Dreemurr and the Lady Toriel. Sister of Asriel Dreemurr and the so-called _hope_  of monsterkind." **The last part they spat, like it was poison on their tongue. Their gaze re-fixed with Sans's, the demon waiting for their words to sink in with an almost-patience.

Chara.

Chara Dreemurr.

The name rang true, familiar and unexpected. All monsters knew the tale. The tale of the human child that had fallen into the Underground, oh so many years ago. How Asgore and Toriel had taken her in, accepted her as one of their own, despite what humanity had done to monsterkind. Instead of answering with hate, they had answered with forgiveness and compassion, two thirds of a monsters' very essence. The new princess had been supposed to supply the monsters trapped in the mountain with a new reason to live, the hope of a future stretching out before them. A hope that, maybe, things could become better once again.

But something had gone wrong.

The human child had become sick, and had died a terrible death. All that could have been done for her, had been, but it still hadn't been enough. Monsters knew nothing of human illnesses, and try as they might, the child hadn't had a prayer of surviving. Asriel, the king and queen's own son and heir, had absorbed the child's soul and crossed the Barrier. Only to be attacked and mortally wounded. Crawling back into the safety of the Underground, Chara's body still in his grasp, Asriel had perished, turning to dust on the very stretch of yellow flowers they had all crossed in their exodus from the mountain two months ago. Asgore and Toriel...they had lost both their children within the span of a single day. That loss had torn them, and their kingdom, apart for  _years_.

Sans felt ill. "but...no, that can't be right. you can't be-"

**"Oh, but I am, Sansy. Turns out my soul never truly shattered in death. Held in the arms of my fool of a brother, as he dusted, our souls combined as they were, something just didn't follow the laws of nature. Magic is weird, you have no idea what it is capable of. That, and of course my transcending DETERMINATION. Asriel passed on to become the anomaly you call Flowey, and I...Well, I became what you see before you. A spirit. An apparition. A** ** _DEMON_**   **.**

Sans held a hand to his skull, wincing as the knew information hammered its way through to his mind. He had held many theories through the resets about just who and what the anomalies were, first with Flowey, then with Frisk. But he had never imagined-

Chara's grin twisted unnaturally. **Frisk was so desperate when I found her, so in need of something** ** _new_** **and** ** _exciting_** **, that she all but sold her soul to me. We share in our gift of determination, though mine, as you can clearly see, has grown far stronger. She's little more than a broken little puppet now. Fallen prey to my every whim. My little marionette."**

"stop it," Sans found himself hissing, disgust and horror roiling in his soul. " _stop it_. let her go."

**"Tch. That's not how this works, I hate to tell you, Sansy."** Their eyes hardened.  **"I'm the one who calls the shots in this world. You and her are nothing but pawns. And to tel you the truth, I've never really cared much for chess. It's so much more fun just to play with the pieces."**

"i'm not a toy-"

**"I beg to differ."**

"-and neither is frisk. you can't just go around playing with peoples' lives. what kind of sick freak  _are_  you?"

Chara's smile stretched impossibly wider.  **"The kind that likes to watch you _squirm_."**

They lurched forward again, reaching for him with hooked fingers, like a child pretending to have claws. Sans did his best to dodge, dull, bitten fingernails just barely grazing on his jacket sleeve, but he already knew he wasn't going to last. He was already so incredibly tired. Exhausted from an eternity of resets all come to gang up on him at once. It was draining his energy; his very hope it seemed.

**"You needn't make this any harder than it has to be,"** Chara coached conversationally, making another grab at him. They grunted in annoyance as they just barely missed him again.  **"I'm only going to mess with you a little. Try and figure out how you tick. Break a few bones, screw with your mind, maybe strangle your pathetic little soul with Frisk's _bare hands_. Doesn't that sound like fun?"**

"like a picnic," Sans huffed sarcastically, already beginning to feel dizzy and out of breath. He twisted to the side, evading another swipe.

**"And this is only the beginning,"** they cooed gleefully.  **"Just imagine everything I'll be able to do to you in all the resets to follow this one. And to think I had started to think of you as _boring_. But your the furthest thing. You're so full of surprises, Sans. And secrets. So many, many secrets. Heeheeheh! Well. It's time to start prying you open for those secrets, I think. My dear, mysterious, little skeleton!"**

_'WHAMPF!'_

" _hgn!_ "

Sans had known it was inevitable, from the very beginning this had all started he had known, but it still came on as a jarring shock. With a final growl and sudden change in direction, Chara managed to grab a hold of the front of his jacket, their momentum forcing him backward, hard into something solid and unyielding. It stole his breath away, ripping a choked sound from his throat, even as Chara adjusted their position so that he was thoroughly pinned in place, sockets wide and chest heaving unevenly. It took far too long for Sans's mind to catch up; for him to realize that the being had been steadily forcing him backward during their fight, out of the clearing and right into the fringe of forest surrounding them. The hard, rough surface pressing painfully into his spine through his clothes was a large, oak tree.

Chara couldn't have looked more smug.  **"Huh. Two months of the easy life and you've lost your touch. Shame. I think you could have tried to win this a little harder. Make it more interesting."**

"s-sorry...t-to disa-disappoint," the skeleton panted heavily, echoes of that painful thump still ringing up and down his vertebrae. His shaky hands moved up to feebly grasp at the wrists of Chara's - no, Frisk's - hands, the hands pushing him steadily into the bark behind him, almost like they were considering crushing him.

**"No, no, it's fine. I mean, we can always try this again, right?"** They gleaned pleasure from how hard he was shivering, even as he held their gaze, judgement in his eyes.  **"Perseverance, Sansy. That's what you need. To learn to keep at it, with everything you've got. That's how you'll make me happy. And you'll want to make me happy, Sans...Or suffer the consequences."**

"p-perseverance, huh?" Sans released a breathy, tired chuckle. His feet shifted slightly, trying to keep him standing, even as he didn't fight Chara's hold. "i thought i've already e-established this, but-h-hn-" He winced. Chara was pressing harder, trying to test his limits. "i g-gave...gave up a l-long...long time ago..."

The being didn't look convinced.  **"No. That's what you** ** _think_** **, but I know it's far from the truth. You** ** _think_** **you have given up, but you haven't. Giving up leaves you dead inside. There's still something in you that cares. Maybe your just a little broken, and your soul just feels a little numb. Sometimes it overwhelms you, and doesn't listen when you tell it to stir."** They grinned cruelly, one hand slowly leaving its place fisted in the front of his coat.  **"Let's see if I can't get its attention."**

****

Before Sans could even guess as to what they were planning, he felt something plunge up under the hem of his shirt, digging deep into his rib cage and close with agonizing strength around his soul. The skeleton's head snapped backward, clunking loudly and painfully against the tree trunk behind him, but he barely noticed. A minor fracture in his skull was nothing compared to the rolling waves of violent intent. It choked off any cry he might have made, the demon's presence consuming him as their fingers caged in the very essence of his being.

A monster's soul was sacred. It was the embodiment of all they were; their memories, their emotions, their hopes and dreams, and their deepest fears. It held their personality; what made them who they were, all contained within the glow and pulse of that tiny vessel. Sans's was far from healthy. Cracks and little fissures had littered it for years, even before the resets had begun, though the memories of why had long since been blocked from his memory. His soul was dim compared to most, a weak, trembling specimen that he hadn't ever shown to  _anyone_ , not even his own brother. At least, not that he could remember. He had thought he had numbed himself to any further deterioration, but...

Maybe Chara was right.

He wasn't as numb as he thought he was.

**"Ah. There it is."** Chara slowly withdrew their hand from under his ribs, dragging the vulnerable soul along with it. Their gaze never left his face, enjoying every moment of his senseless terror and pain, feeling him as they kept him pinned, gasping for air like a fish out of water. Once the soul was in sight, their focused on it, frowning at its condition.  **"It's so small. Huh. You really are a pathetic, little shrimp, aren't you?"**

"a-at l-least...i-i d...don't get m-my kicks b-by tor-torturing others!" he shot back. Now that his soul was extracted, the pain had faded to a dull throb, leaving the bones of his arms and legs feeling weak and tingling. Now he just felt horribly, horribly exposed.

**"Mm. Yes, well. To each his own, I guess."**  They peered at his soul curiously.

"wh-what are- _h-hnn_ \- you g-gonna do?"

They grinned at him.  **"Well, I mean, I could just see what happens when I squeeze a bit to hard,"** they ventured, increasing the pressure of their fingers. Sans stiffened, eyes closing as he swallowed, the action tasting dry and acidic with fear. The pressure continued to tighten for a moment, before it diminished just as quickly. " **But where's the fun in that? I heard that souls contain the very makeup of everything that makes you _you,_ on a deep, personal level. In fact, I can kind of feel you. The real you, underneath that silly mask you always wear. You're scared out of your skull right now. Scared and vulnerable, because you don't know what I'm going to do. And yet..." **They frown, becoming slightly annoyed.  **"And yet your still worried about that goody-two-shoes Frisk. Tch. A waste of your time, Sansy. You can't help her."** Their grin returned, widened to the extreme.  **"Anymore than she can help you. Now, hang on, _Uncle Sans_.  T H I S   M I G H T   _H U R T_  . "**

_"ngh!"_

If the pain of before had been hard to bear, this was agony on a whole other level. Sans's vision turned white, his mind reeling back as Chara's presence invaded his own. He had heard how connections could be made through the touching of a monster's soul, though it was typically used by healers, as an attempt to reach those wounded to the point of near-dusting. It was used as a coaxing, a final effort to lure the dying back from the edge. It wasn't supposed to hurt. It wasn't supposed to be this invading.

He could feel Chara in all their horrifying glory, sifting ankle deep through his memories and emotions. He could feel their curiosity, their cruelty, their amusement; everything. If there had been any doubt as to Frisk and Chara being separate identities, this wiped those uncertainties away in a flood of evidence. This was clearly not Frisk.

Sans was carried deep into his own consciousness, separated from his body - he couldn't even feel it anymore. He was adrift in a void unlike the one he was familiar with, and Chara was only digging deeper. Deeper. D e e p e r-

And then suddenly he was slammed back into his own body, Chara's presence ripped from him like a thorn removed from his being. He was sweating and trembling, bones feeling numb and useless as his knees buckled and he found himself sliding down against the tree at his back into a crumpled heap on the forest floor. His thoughts were spiraling, fleeting little things that didn't make any sense. He was aware that he was gasping, sharp, violent inhales that shook his entire frame. It wasn't until his mind started to right itself that he became aware of the sound of someone yelling.

**"-isn't your call to make! Stop it! Give in! Submit! _SUBMIT!"_**

Sans's vision swam, trying to focus the swirling darkness that was only slightly highlighted by moving shapes. His eye lights had extinguished at some point, and try as he might, his chin felt almost to heavy to raise from his chest. His voice, when he tried to use it, didn't work, the sound getting caught somewhere between his magic and the open air.

**"NO! NO NO NO NO NO!!!"**

Sans struggled, forcing himself to blink. Self-preservation, something he thought he had long since lost, prompted him to keep trying, and, eventually, his eye lights flickered back into existence, his vision returning, albeit hazed.

Chara had retreated back by several steps, fallen to their knees, hands clutching their head. They were bent way forward, curled in on themselves as they argued with someone Sans couldn't hear, but who he could only assume was Frisk. His gaze shakily began hunting Chara's person for his soul, because it was obvious that it wasn't back where it belonged. He still felt empty and strained. A moment of frantic searching and he found it. The little organ had been dropped apparently, left to drift in the air halfway between Chara and himself. The demon must have dropped it.

**"I don't care what you want! This is about what I WANT! No, you-! GNH!"**

Sans needed to fetch his soul...before Chara regained control. Silently cheering his imprisoned friend on, the skeleton grunted as he forced his body to obey. It still felt oddly disconnected, and he knew that feeling would continue until his soul was safe once again in his chest. His fingers dug into the damp soil of the earth, his legs uncooperative as he painstakingly dragged himself forward, inch by agonizing inch.


	7. Watch That First Step

Frisk fought.

She fought harder than she had ever fought for anything in her life.

As Chara forced her fingers to close around her friend's soul, and she watched from the confines of her own mind as Sans's face screwed up with agony, she knew this had to stop. What Chara was making her do...It was wrong beyond just the simple law of morality. A monster's soul was not meant to be forced open like this, laid bare to the eyes of a creature that only intended to hurt. To maim. To  _torture_.

Even as a passenger in her own body, Frisk could feel the glee and excitement that Chara felt. Frisk could see the forced reveal of Sans's memories and emotions, and she turned away, trying to spare him her knowing. Yes, she had always wondered what made Sans who he was, how he worked, what secrets he held; but this wasn't the way she had wanted to find out. Trust was how such bonds of friendship should be formed, not a non-consensual tearing of a mind.

It had taken a few heart-stopping moments, but Frisk felt her determination flare like it never had before. Chara's attack had only managed to scratch the surface of Sans's being before Frisk finally felt the tenuous feel of control in her grasp, and the moment she did she gripped it tight and veered it harshly to the side. Chara screeched, releasing their hold on Sans's soul, severing the connection with a jolt. Frisk didn't have time to make sure Sans was alright, or even to figure out what had happened to his soul, when Chara turned her attack inward.

Frisk gasped, the sound sharp and echoed in the space of the void around her; pain laced all through her temple, Chara's voice frantic and filled with rage.

**"STOP IT!"**

_Leave my friend alone, Chara!_ Frisk shot back. She hadn't felt this rebellious in a long time.  _He doesn't deserve this! I won't let you hurt him anymore! I won't let you make me hurt him anymore!_

**"That isn't your call to make! Stop it! Give in! Submit! _SUBMIT!"_**

Frisk felt the smile of a power long forgotten creep into her face.

Free will. 

_No. It's over, Chara._

**"NO! NO NO NO NO NO!!!"**

_Give me back my body. My life. I'm breaking our deal. You overstepped your authority a long time ago._

**"You're not the one in control! I'll prove it! I'LL PROVE IT!!"**

Frisk felt Chara shift their combined vision up, wide and frantic, to focus on the crippled monster only several paces from them. Frisk felt her heart ache at the sight. Sans was struggling, shuffling forward in a shaky, crouching crawl toward his soul, the little inverted heart hovering just out of his reach. Chara fixated on it, gritting their teeth as they forced themselves forward, an intent of pure murder wafting from their spirit.

Frisk began to panic.  _Chara! Stop! I said leave him alone!_

**"Stupid, meddling skeleton!"** Chara seethed, gaining distance slowly as they forced against Frisk's shaky hold.  **"I'm going to _CRUSH_  you! I'm going to  _DESTROY_  you to the point where you'll  _never_  be the same! Existence won't even be able to recognize your mangled remains!!!"** 

Sans seemed more lucid, his gaze locking with Chara's as he stretched out with a final push, reaching his soul just milliseconds before Chara would have gained their prize. He slammed the organ to his chest, the soul phasing back into its place with what looked like a spasm of pain, if Sans's shudder and wince was anything to go off of. Soul restored, Sans regained the use of his limbs, though even as he stumbled to his feet, Frisk could see how he shook. He looked as frail as a newborn, body curled inward, jacket slipping off his shoulder.

But, instead of backing away like Frisk had hoped he would, Sans lurched forward, enveloping Chara - Frisk's body - in the firmest, most desperate hug he had ever given anyone in recent memory.

Time seemed to stop.

Frisk's mind quieted.

Even Chara seemed to go slack in shock.

The demon had frozen, red eyes blinking in incomprehension as Sans pressed against them, their body tensed in the skeleton's embrace. Frisk could feel their confusion, the way they faltered, before harsh fingers latched onto Sans's back, holding him there, not pushing him away. Chara's - Frisk's- small frame shuddered with something, and Frisk wasn't sure if it was disgust and rage on Chara's behalf, or something desperate. Like Sans's sudden action of compassion had touched something Frisk had never been able to reach.

But that was too good to hope for.

**"What...are you _doing_?"**

"for once i-in my life," Sans stuttered, "saving s-someone." Sans held them a little tighter. "i believe in you, kid. you hear me, frisk?  _i believe in you._ "

Chara stiffened. Their grip on the skeleton's back grew tighter, probably painfully so, as if they wanted to tear out his spine through the back of his coat. A sound emanated from their chest, it rumbled through them both, a growl that promised great suffering.

**"You _FOOL_. I'm going to  _ruin you!_ "**

Sans didn't let go, even as their fingers dug deeper still. "th-then do it."

And Chara would have, but the tables had finally been turned. At Sans's blatant show and declaration of faith in her, Frisk felt her determination reach a new peak. It raged through her body, the dark void around her splitting down the middle like a curtain torn savagely in two. Frisk could feel Sans now, not just the echo of him through her possessor. She could feel his chest shuddering in hiccuped breaths, pressed against her own as she heaved out of sync with his pants for air. She could feel her fingers clawed into his shoulder blades, and the minute she could she loosened that dreadful grip, holding him rather than crushing him.

Chara continued to scream, but they no longer had control of Frisk's vocals. They were a projection in her head once more.

_I'm done. Leave me, and never come back._

**_No! NO!_ **

_Leave, or I'll make you._

**_I HAVE NOWHERE TO GO!_ **

_Then pass on._

And Frisk began to push. Her own uniqueness began to swell, pushing out every ounce of that something that wasn't her. Normally she would have felt remorse. She would have offered a second chance. She would have offered mercy...But this had gone on long enough. Chara wasn't going to change. Their deeds, what they had done, what they had become - They were irredeemable. For her own sake, for everyone's sake, for Sans's sake...This had to end. For good. 

"I'm sorry," Frisk whimpered, face pressed into the crook of Sans's neck, and she wasn't sure which of the two she was apologizing more to. She gave a final shove.

All that was Chara went up like a wispy flame dipped in water. There was a piercing shriek, a sound that even Sans seemed to hear, the skeleton tensing, breath hitching as he held on tighter...And then there was silence.

Warm.

Real.

Honest.

Silence.

.

.

.

Chara was gone.

.

.

.

Frisk couldn't believe it at first. It had been so long, so horribly long since her body and mind had been hers and only hers. The very world around her seemed to focus, to sharpen, to brighten; regaining something it had lost. For the first time in a hundred - no, a thousand - resets, Frisk was herself. Her true, untainted, un-possessed self. And, being a human child of nine and surely traumatized beyond belief, she did what was only natural.

She broke down and cried.

Frisk slowly fell to her knees, Sans's warm embrace following her all the way, him kneeling too, not letting her go. Her grip on him tightened again, this time in a desperate attempt to keep her sanity from cracking completely. He flinched a little, and even in her hysteria she tried to understand and keep her hold gentle, but it was hard. They were practically plastered to one another, and still he wasn't close enough. As good as having Chara gone felt, Frisk suddenly felt disparagingly empty.

"s'okay, kiddo...i-i...i got ya...i've got ya, frisk."

"I'm s-sorry," she sobbed, her breath and tears making the bone of his neck all warm and wet, but she couldn't help it. His hands rose to shakily rub at her own spine, trying to sooth her. "I-It's all my fault! I let Ch-Chara take control! The f-first resets were all m-me! I killed, Sans! You should h-h-hate m-me, I-"

"i don't hate you."

"You sh-should- y-you should, oh g-god, you sh-should-"

"i don't. i d-don't, kid, listen to me-"

 Frisk was trying. Everything was just so overwhelming. So violently real after what felt like an eternity of surreal existence. "S-Sans-"

" _listen._ we've all done things we aren't proud of. an' if...i-if we confine our future just to what we deserve, then we've really got no future at all. what you did...what you did was wrong, but you're willing to change. you're...you're strong and brave and...frisk, i believe in you, kiddo. i believe and i want this to work." He swallowed, the motion odd pressed against her the way he was. Frisk wasn't even sure how he managed it, made only of bone. "i want a future."

Frisk gave a stuttering sigh, nuzzling into his chest. "I'll g-give it to you," she whimpered. "i  _p-promise_."

It took them a while to calm down. Frisk was a sobbing mess, all that pent up grief, sorrow, and guilt tearing at her from the inside, but by the time she had exhausted herself, she felt a little less heavy. Sans was still shaking, weak and dizzy from his ordeal, Frisk was sure. She was tempted to ask to see his soul, the urge to make sure he hadn't been damaged strong, but she realized that would be a mistake. He had been violated, and even if it had been at Chara's prompting, it had still been Frisk's hands, Frisk's form that had done so. She was lucky he was even letting her this close.

They murmured things to each other, encouragements mostly. That soon turned to soft, shaky questions and tremulous answers. Frisk told Sans all she knew about Chara, and Sans confirmed that he did, indeed, remember the resets clearly. All of them, even if some had grown a bit fuzzy in their entirety. Frisk was pretty sure Sans cried a little too, if the way his shoulders kept hitching from time to time was anything to go by. It refreshed her own tears, and they simply allowed their emotions to take their course, a desperate child and a worn and aching skeleton.

Again Frisk took note of her friend's clothes. Sans's jacket, shirt, and pants were soaked, the skeleton drenched all the way through, his ribs visible through the fabric. He had to be cold, on top of everything else, the slight breeze chilly and sharp. The still present tremors in his shoulders prompted Frisk to ask how he had gotten so wet. Sans had released a chuckle that sounded just a little too close to a hiccough.

"w-was down by the stream when y-you whipped out the...the power to reset. i can sort of, um...sense it? a-after all this time, and i sorta, uh..." He winced. "fell into the stream part way while i was trying ta get back over here?"

"Couldn't you t-teleport?"

Sans shook his head, a shiver going through him. "wasn't thinking s-straight. not at first."

Frisk understood. Graciously, she dropped the subject, holding him tighter.

Finally, when Frisk had no more tears to cry, the two of them separated, backs stiff from kneeling on the cold, hard ground for so long. Frisk's left leg had fallen asleep, and shifting it only resulted in pins and needles. She grunted, wiping her sweatered arm across her eyes with a sigh. Despite everything, Sans treated her to a weak, tired smile. It wasn't genuine, and it wasn't a mask either. It was a broken, sad little thing. Relieved and wounded.

"you...okay, kiddo?"

Frisk ground a fist into her eye, rubbing away the itch of drying tears. "I...guess so." She paused, staring down at the small space between them. "...Chara's gone."

Sans cringed. "yeah, i...i know. i could tell the minute they left. i could feel when it became you instead."

The human child nodded dully. She wasn't going to ask if he had heard the scream. It didn't matter. That sound was going to haunt her dreams for a long time, she was sure.

"you, uh...feeling alright? that was all kind of...intense."

Frisk looked up at him in disbelief. "Am  _I_  alright?" she repeated bitterly. "Sans, I'm not the one who almost got-!  _Got-!_ " She didn't know what to call it.  _Soul tortured?_  Frisk curled inward. "I should be asking if  _you're_  alright," she whimpered.

"hey, hey...i'm fine, kid."

Frisk didn't believe him. "You can't be. Not after  _that_."

The skeleton sighed, his still shaking hands curling into fists in his lap as he stared off to the side. "...'k. okay. maybe i'm not. but that's...that's okay. it's over. we're both still here. and that's really all that matters in the end."

"Yeah," Frisk breathed. "Yeah, we're still here..." She listened to the sound of crickets, the croaks of frogs down by the creek. It was nice. Normal. Frisk soaked it in even as she knew they should probably go back to camp. But she just didn't have the will to get up yet, exhaustion weighing her down. "...So what...what are we going to do now?"

"i think...we move on?" Sans gave a small chuckle, wincing as it jostled some soreness or other. "unless, of course, you wanna talk this out some more." He raised his dim eye lights to finally meet her gaze, a bone brow rising it question.

Frisk considered it, then slowly nodded. "No...No, I think we've talked about it all we can, for tonight...Don't you think?"

Sans shrugged weakly. "i mean, i'll always still have a lot of questions, honestly. but they can always wait." His fingers clenched. "you sure that... _thing_  isn't gonna come back?"

"No." Of that Frisk was certain. "They're gone for good."

"i'll take your word for it."

"Did we...they...hurt you?" Frisk asked tentatively.

"nah. nothing that won't heal with a little bit of time."

So they had. Of course they had.

Frisk nodded, guilty. "M'sorry."

"wasn't your fault. not this. not a lot of things."

"...If you say so."

Sans frowned. He waited a beat, then leaned forward, seeking her gaze and settling a crooked finger beneath her chin. "...hey..." When she finally looked up he smiled. This one more genuine. "when has uncle sans ever steered you wrong, eh?"

"N-Never."

"there, ya see? so if i say, as a judge, that you ain't to blame, then you have to believe me, right?"

Frisk blinked, then returned his smile, shakily. She leaned forward and wrapped him in a gentle hug. This time his flinch was less noticeable. "...Right."

"there ya go. now." Sans settled them apart, his expression becoming a bit more serious. "how are we going to handle this?"

"Huh?"

"how we gonna move on from this? we can, obviously." He laughed, and it sounded just a little too hysterical for Frisk's liking. "i-i mean...there aren't going to be any more resets, r-right? we're... o-oh, god-" He swayed a little, the full weight of that realization hitting him hard. Frisk steadied him, concerned, but he regained himself fairly quickly. "we're finally free. but, kiddo, i gotta ask...why didn't you stop them sooner?" He looked pained, asking such a question, but it was clearly one he had to know. One he had to know  _now_. Frisk could see the desperation in his eyes.

Frisk winced. "I just didn't have the...the determination to do so. Chara was so strong...I thought I was just...fighting for myself, and it wasn't enough. But when I realized you remembered- you  _remembered_  - I realized I just couldn't afford not to care anymore."

Sans's shoulders slumped in relief, that answer apparently settling something for him. With a pat of Frisk's shoulder, Sans used them to balance him as he struggled to his feet, his weight hardly a bother. His legs shook badly, bones rattling gently in the night air. Once he was sure he wouldn't fall over, he offered a trembling hand to Frisk to help her to her feet as well. Frisk discovered, upon accepting, that she was also fairly weak and shivery. They ended up standing together on the fringe of the clearing, leaning on one another and swaying slightly on their feet.

"S-Sans?"

"yeah, kiddo?"

"I...There's something I want to do."

"an' what's that?"

Frisk shifted her feet, angling herself so that she could properly look up into his face. "The others...Mom, Asgore, Papyrus...Everyone who's...who's closest to me. I...I can't tell everyone, at least...not at first, but...They deserve to know. About the resets. About what I did."

If Sans could pale, he did so, by several shades. "do you know what you're saying, frisk? that's...that's a lot."

But Frisk was adamant. "I know...I know, it's just...If this is really it, if we're going to move on now...I want them to know. I can't...I can't carry that guilt all my life, Sans. I just  _can't_."

Sans remained quiet for a long moment, his gaze trailing off into the distance, like he was reviewing a list of outcomes. But, in the end, it really wasn't his call to decide, was it? He seemed to realize that, and with a slow, almost fond shake of his head he murmured, "you're really something, kid. brave. a lot braver than me." He chuckled, dryly. "so when you wanna break the news to them? tomorrow?"

"Tonight." Frisk winced again at her friend's blanch. "I-It has to be tonight. Or I'm going to lose my nerve. This has to be done, and I have to be the one to do it." She gazed up at him sadly. "You don't...have to be there for it, if you don't want to-"

"not a chance."

"...What?"

"i said, not a chance. if my little buddy is going to stand judged before her friends, then i'm gonna be at her side. you don't have to do this alone, bucko."

Frisk had never been more grateful. She was too choked up to even properly thank him.

"we'll gather everyone up tonight. get it over with. but..." The skeleton frowned, stiffening up. "kiddo? can you make me...one more promise?"

He sounded odd, voice tight and strained. Frisk couldn't say no to that. Not after all she had let happen to him. "Anything, Sans. What is it?"

"leave my remembering out of this."

Frisk tried blinking away her remaining tears, her expression becoming confused. "What...What do you want me to tell them about-?"

Sans shrugged, but the motion didn't come across nearly as casual as it normally did. "about how i know? nothing maybe? or, if you have to say something, tell them you already told me. just...don't tell them i remember, okay?" His voice choked, and Frisk thought she could hear the slightest of tremors. "i...really don't think i can handle this otherwise. not right now. maybe never...alright? i know its cowardly, or stupid, or something but...we all know what we need, right? you need to tell the truth to cope with this. i need to hide it away. can you do that for me, frisk?"

 

Frisk didn't feel right about that. Not at all. Every fiber of her being told her telling the truth was not only the right thing to do for herself, but the best thing for Sans as well. But...after all she had put him through, did she really have the right to make things harder for him? 

No. No, she didn't.

Frisk reached out slowly and took his hand, lacing her fingers with his own. He was so cold. Where was his warmth?

"Alright," Frisk agreed weakly. She leaned her head against his shoulder, tired and worn. "I promise. But...I'll always be here, if you need to talk. And...I know the others will be too."

"...thanks, kiddo."

"I love you, Uncle Sans." It hurt when he shivered, the nickname tainted by a demon. But still he held her hand tighter, a squeeze to return affection.

"...i love you too."

Together they slowly made their way back to camp, stumbling and shivering. No one was up by then, most tents dark and lanterns out. Sans snuck into his tent to change, returning outside in a t-shirt and a blanket, his coat hung up to hopefully dry overnight. They settled beside one of the only few campfires still lit in the encampment, watching the glow of the embers follow the caress of the breeze in silence. It had been a long day, and it was sure to be an even longer night, but for now they could breathe. Two free souls, taking their first few moments of freedom together, however shakily.

The canopy of twinkling stars shone again overhead, the clouds having passed, a carousel of blending colors, full of cold navy blues, arid pinks, and soft smearing purples. A comet or two shot across the night canvas, streaking across the endless cluster of pin-point lights. It was a steady reminder that while the world above ground seemed vast, almost infinite, it was really quite a small place compared to the rest of the universe. A mere floating spec in the ocean of space.

But for Sans and Frisk...the world had just gotten a whole lot bigger.

**Author's Note:**

> *Micro-ecosystem - Micro-ecosystems can exist in locations which are precisely defined by critical environmental factors within small or tiny spaces. Such factors may include temperature, pH, chemical milieu, nutrient supply, presence of symbionts or solid substrates, gaseous atmosphere (aerobic or anaerobic) etc. (Wikipedia Definition)
> 
> *Albedo - The reflection of light on a surface (in this case the sun's light reflecting off of the moon, making to moon look as if it is glowing with its own light).
> 
> *Rocks and boulders carried by glaciers are called 'Erratics'. There is one just down the street from my house; a huge bolder big and tall enough to have served as a formidable 'tree house' for at least three of my family's generations.


End file.
